


Lugubriosity

by HomeMovies



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Amputation, Attempted Murder, Broken Bones, Cats, Child Abuse, Child Pregnancy, Collars, Dark, Disturbing Themes, Domestic Violence, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Female Chara (Undertale), Female Frisk (Undertale), Forced Pregnancy, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Misidentification, Multi, Parent/Child Incest, Past Child Abuse, Pedophilia, Physical Abuse, Prostitution, Rape, Rape Recovery, Sadism, Self-Harm, Sibling Incest, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-07-07 11:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15907143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomeMovies/pseuds/HomeMovies
Summary: There isn't much to life when you lived the same day over and over again, begging for the embrace of death only for your pleas to fall on deaf ears. Its easy to get carried away with vengeful emotions- emotion so strong they bring you to the act of ruining an innocent life. Though, finding sanity in captivity may be the hardest challenge of them all.This is an edited Reupload. Please be mindful of the tags.





	1. Bottles & Bottles of Dust

**Author's Note:**

> To know when to skip disturbing scenes, if you want to of course, look out for the "(**)" at the beginning and end of each one. 
> 
> This is a reupload and Im currently going through/writing the other chapters. Chapter two should be uploaded like a few hours after this one and so on so fourth.
> 
> Anyways Enjoy :)

The kitchen was dimly lit.

 

The rhythmic sound of the old clock ticking steadily could put even the most focused of minds in a trance. With the empty murmuring from the television echoing throughout the halls, and the

 

...*tap*...

 

...*tap*...

 

...*tap*...

 

of the water drops, coming from the tub’s faucet, dancing in the distance.

As the hum of the ceiling fan and refrigerator combined stood to be hypnotic to the tired mine. But from all the white noise observed and stated, not one of them resembled the clink of a beer bottle. Not one matched that of obnoxious drunken laughter, nor that of faint weeping. All of which were more than just common characteristics of their miserable home.

 

Something was off.

 

It was too quiet. 

 

But Papyrus couldn't bring himself to care.

 

He toyed with the steaming pot of spaghetti on the stove top. Hunger was the only thing he could think about, so he didn't even bother to turn on any of the lights when he walked in from work.

 

It sucked he didn't get a lunch break. Maybe then he wouldn't be so grouchy and spend half the day yelling at people.

 

And here he stood in near darkness, hardly able to see what he was putting in his food. And he didn't  _ care _ . 

  
  


_ He didn't care about anything at that moment. _

  
  


Papyrus was sure he grabbed the cayenne pepper, but it could've easily been cinnamon. That didn't stop him from sprinkling the spice in the pot anyway. Life was about discovery after all. Besides, that's how all great inventions came  about, 

 

_ on accident _ .

Hell, the salt he was adding in now might be sugar, but why bother to check. That would just defeat the purpose, and from what he remembered from his old lessons with Undyne, cooking was about unplanned creativity and convenience. Not crafted skill or time. 

 

Ha! He might as well add the whole spice cabinet while he’s at it. 

 

Papyrus grinned at the thought. This was going to be a masterpiece of a meal, it would probably make him millions if he ever decided to sell it. 

  
  


Papyrus was going to have a pretty sweet pasta on his hands. 

 

_ Literally _ . 

 

Smiling even wider than before, he dipped his gloved phalange in the pot before placing it in his mouth. Almost spitting it out from disgust, it took him a moment to realize he hadn't conjuered up a tongue. He nearly slapped himself for thinking his food was as dull as rocks, when in reality the ‘great’ and ‘terrible’ Papyrus was just  _ dumb _ and  _ forgetful _ . 

 

Perhaps Father was right about him. He always did say Sans was the smart one, which was laughable now that he thought about it. If Sans was so smart he would've took that so called “brain” of his and put it to good use. Instead it was just rotting away in front of a television screen, doing nothing, contributing to nothing. He was practically less than nothing. 

 

Who cared if forever ago he worked close under the royal scientist (which isn't even that hard to believe considering he was created for that purpose), or if his brother was a physicist that could easily grasp concepts Papyrus couldn't even wrap his mind around. All that meant nothing. 

 

Ha! Sans was far from intelligent. He was nothing more than a useless pile of bones. Papyrus was better. So much better.

 

_ If only Father could see him now. _

 

He would know who was the  _ true _ superior son. The one that might've not been so book smart. The son who, yeah, needed a little more time to learn how to read and write, or was a total mute for the first four years of his life. But those were only stepping stones that made him who he was today,

 

Strong, brave, and dashingly handsome. 

 

Definitely a rare gem to come by. Definitely worth much more than a slothful slob. Definitely the better son.

 

He wrapped his tongue around his index finger as he sucked it clean. Besides the taste of fabric, 

 

_ ‘It's not half bad,’  _

 

he thought to himself.

Intrigued by the salty nectarous flavor, he dipped his digit in once more for seconds. Cooking wasn't exactly something he was good at, he'll admit, but he enjoyed it nonetheless, and little things like discovering sweet spaghetti brought a small glimmer of joy to his soul. 

 

___

 

A gentle hiss came lingering from atop a window sill. The feline sat watching her master as she tilted her head slightly in curiosity. He was ogling over, what she assumed, was boiling garbage since it smelled so bad.

‘ _ How could any creature even considering eating such a thing?’ _

 

Lifting her leg nearly over her head in an attempt to reach a nice lickable spot on her stomach, the cat felt a little bored and wanted to stir up trouble. She meowed noisily as she observed Papyrus more. She had to admit that she felt a little lonely these past few days without him home. There was no one to pet her belly, or brush her fur, or give her all the attention she didn't need, yet demanded. Worst of all was the lack of long stalky legs to use as a scratching post. 

 

Doomfanger jumped down and cuddled between his legs, trying to gain his attention. Rubbing her head against him in an adorable fashion. She knew he liked it when she did that.

 

_ ‘Just gotta keep it up and master will be all mine.’ _

 

Papyrus was still occupied with his “cooking”. Not really paying the cat any mind. A bit upset, Doomfanger meowed again as she drug her claws against the skeleton’s femur, causing a small gash in his bottoms. He didn't stop what he was doing, though.

 

 “QUITE THAT, YOU NAUGHTY KITTY,” 

 

He said with a garish raised voice, as he does with everything else. If she wasn't so used to his shouting, the cat might have jumped. 

 

_ ‘Loud and authoritative are two different things,’ _

 

Doomfanger thought as she kept pestering him.  With no luck, she paused before slowly beginning to stroll out of the room with her tail raised. 

 

He just wasn't going to budge was he? What was so different about today that made him utterly refuse to spend time with her. Everyday of the cat's short life had been spent with Papyrus. He’d go off to do master things and she would wait for him to get home, and once he did, it was their time together. That was their routine but now he was ignoring her. 

 

_ ‘How rude.’ _

 

That was her job to ignore him not the other way around.

 

Before she passed the kitchen threshold she looked back at Papyrus with narrowed eyes. Why did she feel like the “fat” one had something to do with this. He was just absolutely terrible. Half the time he forgot to feed her and he always smelled like god awful poison. To top it off, the short freak took pleasure in torturing her. Often pulling her tail or dumping a bucket of cold water on the sleeping cat just for the “fun” of it. A complete scum of the earth.

 

But Papyrus,

 

Papyrus loved her with all his soul, or at least much more than he loved the freak. Doomfanger could just feel it, and that --that alone-- brought joy to her every being. She couldn't lose it. 

 

She refused to lose it.

 

She was going to make him give her all of his devotion and time, and she didn't care if she ruined the “fat” one's day in the process. 

 

___

 

Papyrus sighed.

 

He dragged his palm across his jawline as he ran through his stressful week in his racing mind.

 

God, how the Underground was quickly changing for the worse. He's seen a lot of shit in his day, but as of recent, the total fuckery has just doubled.

_ Tripled maybe. _

 

It was definitely enough to make him reconsider all of his previous life decisions, but he wouldn't let it influence him too much. If shit was going to start getting hard, he would get hard with it. Besides it wasn't like he couldn't handle himself. He was still one of the most feared monsters in Snowdin, so there was nothing to worry about. 

 

All he needed to do was keep Undyne happy, (which was easier said than done) and keep following orders like a mindless drone. And in no time, things will be smoother than butter, and with enough money he wouldn't have to worry about all the crazy shit happening around him. He could just seclude himself in a fort somewhere. 

 

Besides, he always did want to become a hermit. What better life to live than to live it alone. 

 

Well not  _ completely _ alone. Sans would still need someone to take care of his grown ass.

 

Papyrus often wondered why he even bothered keeping his brother around. He ALWAYS made things more difficult. Only a madman would be willing to sacrifice so much for someone who truly didn't deserve it, yet there Papyrus was, admittingly putting in all those hours for...

 

...him?

 

Was Papyrus really that  _ insane _ ? That was definitely up for debate. 

 

Whipping beads of magical sweat from his forehead, Papyrus pondered whether or not  _ anything _ was worth it anymore. 

 

People, monsters, could be such a hassle. One second they're happy and everything is going fine, and the next, they are spiraling down into the deep dark hole that is depression. And depression leads to wanting to feel that happiness again, so they'll do anything in order to feel it.

 

_ And that anything often being drugs _ .

 

Which Papyrus could easily make a comment on how _‘only the weak turn to such a disgraceful_ _thing’_ but he didn't know if he fully believed that. Not anymore anyway. He's seen some really strong warriors take the stuff in hopes of escaping. 

 

‘ _ Escaping what exactly?’ _ He found himself foolishly asking once. He already knew the answer, it was obvious. But playing ignorant was much more comforting than facing the harsh reality. Life had rules and they were simple. Act tough, achieve to be the shit, or die trying. Nothing more to it.

 

_ Nothing more to life. _

 

But where did the drugs come from? Why would anyone make such a destructive thing? Why did people have to ruin the entirety of their lives by simply taking the fucking shit? 

 

_ So many damn questions and not enough sufficient answers. _

 

And to think there was actually a time Papyrus was clueless and naive. To think there was a time he viewed the world in such a childish light. It was horrible since he didn't know if that was the best or worst period in his life. 

 

But he often found himself longing to return to those days. He couldn't. He couldn't because in reality there was no rewind button. You just keep moving forward as if placed on a conveyor belt that never ended. 

 

_ Until you die, of course. _

 

Things haunted him, though. Things he would be forced to see, and in order to save face, shrug off. But sometimes he couldn't. Sometimes he couldn't just pretend he didn't witness something so gut wrenchingly disturbing that he nearly thought he seen it on a gore-filled slasher flick. 

 

When it happened, he felt ill.

 

That moment. It was so surreal. It made him genuinely uncomfortable, and that thought scared him most. He hated the emotion, the feeling, so badly. It gave him too many memories. Memories he needed to forget in order to keep up his “tough guy” facade. He was tough, though. He knew he was.

 

It wasn't a facade.

 

But standing there feeling almost vulnerable as he heard that piercing cry, as he watched the blood splatter in every direction while the flesh of that poor soul was being torn violently from its body. Guts being ripped out like a kid tearing apart a christmas present. He would wonder why go through all the disgusting trouble. Just kill it, and get it over with. But drugs, 

 

_ they made everything more difficult. _

 

Its neck was slit with the edge of the creature's claw and the screaming stopped. The snow painted a dark crimson before the ash started slowly blowing in the wind.

And that was that.

 

And that's how they're all destined to die. Killed in cold blood with no one to cry over your scattered dust. 

 

_ Would Sans be too drunk to care if he died? _

 

Pfft, what was Papyrus thinking. Sans was a useless freeloader. Why would he ever want someone like  _ that _ to even think about him. 

 

Besides, Papyrus was practically immortal with the amount of LOVE he had. He was almost like a god, no one would have the strength to beat him. Yeah, it should be Sans sitting there hoping Papyrus would at least give him the time of day. 

Papyrus didn't need Sans, Sans needed him. 

 

_ But how true was that really?  _

 

___

 

Almost as if she had magic of her own, Doomfanger appeared out of the shadows, and started to lightly nibble at Papyrus's tibia.

 

_ ‘not this again,’ _

 

He nearly kicked her to shoo her away when he noticed the horrible condition the poor thing was in. This would explain her odd behavior, no one was around (or competent enough) to take care of her. He almost sank when he fully looked at her appearance. Her usually puffy coat was soaked in mud and snow, and by the sound of her constant whining she was probably starving. Of course Sans forgot to feed the damn cat, but why was she so filthy. Did he really leave her out in the cold all day? 

 

_ How cruel.  _

 

As his eyes finally started to adjust to the dark, he noticed Doomfanger wasn't the only one. The whole house was filthy. 

 

___

 

Feeling a bit of pride for finally getting Papyrus to notice her, Doomfanger continued her sad meowing. She pranced around a bit, kicking the dirt around as she walked, in hopes of drawing her master's attention to it.

 

_ ‘Look master. Look what the “fat” one didn't do,’ _

 

When his face turned red hot from the absolute neglect, she carefully licked her paw. Putting on the innocent little kitty act, as if she  _ didn't _ spend the afternoon knocking over flower pots and tearing up the dining room curtains.  It was still the freaks fault, though. Maybe if he decided to actually get up and feed her she wouldn't have to be destructive.

 

_ ‘What’s he gonna do to the ‘fat’ one?’  _

 

She wondered spitefully. Hoping he would get a nice good beating, or maybe just hit with a newspaper or sprayed with water like she often got.

 

___

 

Stomping over to a note he left on the fridge, Papyrus could tell just by looking around that absolutely none of the day's chores were completed. Hell, none of yesterday's were either. 

 

The past few days were pretty hectic and draining, which would explain why he didn't catch or even acknowledge the mess before, but that was no excuse.

 

_ No excuse for Sans anyway _ . 

 

And how could he treat Doomfanger so poorly?

 

His brother didn't do shit. He's been out of a job, all fucking  _ five _ of them, ever since he was fired months back for drinking on the job. Undyne had enough and literally kicked his ass out of his post. Causing a huge scene as she always did, and nearly killing him right there. It was embarrassing to say the least.

 

And if he remembered correctly, Sans’ hotdog job in Hotland was lost way back in February. Papyrus didn't know the exact reasoning behind that one, but from what he's heard from a few people, his brother got a little too touchy with a customer. So touchy she nearly had him arrested for assault. He was sure he could link it back to liquor somehow. Sans usual knew to keep his hands to himself, unless under the influence.

 

_ Drink, and drink, and drink, and drink.  _

 

Everyday. Every night. It didn't matter if it was a weekend or weekday. All he did was chug down a bottle. Wasting his stupid life away on what really? A few hours of numbness? How utterly stupid.

 

To top it off, it sucked how  _ all _ of Sans’ reckless actions always reflected badly on Papyrus. It was like he was a little kid. Like as the years went by they swapped roles. Why did he have to be responsible for his brother’s senseless shenanigans? It was beyond ridiculous. To think Sans was somehow “born” first.

 

_ What a joke _ .

 

The Underground might still follow the law of “kill or be killed”, yet that never stopped anyone from digging their noses in other people's business and gossiping like a bunch of old hags. He did have to admit, though, that he agreed with some of the stuff he’s heard around town. Not that anyone would actually dare say any of it to his face. 

 

_ “In what universe would drinking willy nilly on the job suffice. Us working class folk bust our asses off day in and day out, getting paid absolute shit and having half of it wasted on taxes and some fictitious ‘protection’ fee we didn't ask for. Not to mention the holidays we don't get. Watch one of us try to pull a similar stunt as that jackass, and see how quick we'll be out of work.”  _

 

He overheard some guy say once while doing his usual rounds. It was obvious who he was talking about. At the time, all the town's drunks and junkies were unemployed except Sans, since being Papyrus’s brother gave him some form of privilege. Privilege that Papyrus couldn't even take advantage of. He was required to be perfect 24/7. It was either that or Undyne would drop him as her underling. 

 

But Papyrus had to agree with the guy. It wasn't fair. Sans was a preposterous drunk. Barely being able to get his words out without slurring like a moron. And then there was the senseless laughing. Not to mention him falling over every second. And the passing out. And then the lurring eyes, and-

 

You know what, he shouldn't have had a job in the first place.

 

His brother was practically a waste to society, contributing to nothing and only serving as a nuisance to those around him. A starving dog had more purpose than he would ever imagine, and that infuriated Papyrus. He knew his brother had some potential, but it didn't matter how much he was pushed, Sans refused to do anything besides sleep and drink. 

 

_ It was a shame really _ .

  
  


Turning the lights on and basking in all of the kitchen’s disgusting glory, Papyrus nearly ruptured a vein in his unpresent brain. This disorderly environment was causing him to go into a panic attack. He wasn't prepared for this. Never has he seen the house so  _ dirty _ . 

 

Slowly backing up against the wall behind him as he held his chest in shock. The smell suddenly hit his face, hard, like a freight train, as he felt his lunch crawling back up his throat. It was so messy.

 

So fucking  _ messy _ .

 

Papyrus was on the verge of barging into the livingroom and pulling that little vermin by his neck and dragging him into the kitchen to get this place immaculate. He was so close to forcing the slob to scrub every inch of the wall with a toothbrush, lick all the food off the floor with his vodka drenched tongue, and spend all night doing so. 

 

How disrespectful could his brother get?

 

The slender skeleton was so angry steam was practically coming out of his ear cavities. Sans needed his neck wrung out a few times, maybe then he would start to value life. Doing such a thing intentionally, upsetting the “great” and “terrible” Papyrus, was just a plain suicide wish.

 

Almost as if the heat radiating from Papyrus’s anger was enough to warm the whole room a few hundred degrees hotter, his pot of spaghetti began to puff out black smoke. The stove was on high and the sauce was now bubbling like a cranky volcano. Papyrus almost hoped it would go up in flames, at least that way he wouldn't have to deal with all of this. 

 

It took him a second to rush over and turn it off. 

 

He fanned his face to clear away the carbon dioxide trying to enter his “lungs” and suffocate him. It was so hot he needed to unzip his spiked armor. Grabbing a cloth out of his back pocket, he whipped away more sweat from his scarred brow bone.

 

_ What a disaster. _

 

He looked at his creation with disappointment. His once savory dish now smelled metallic. To think he put all that effort into it, only to have it destroyed.

 

Why did  _ this _ feel like a complete testament to life.

 

Grabbing the spoon, he felt like he was stirring through mush, probably because it was. It looked disgusting, but too fucking bad. He would be damned before he wasted food. It's not like they had a choice anyway, or could afford to throw away anything. Despite what others may think, they weren't rich,

 

...thanks to Sans, of course

 

So, it was this or nothing, and by the way his stomach was reacting, nothing was not an option.

 

He took a bowl out of one of the cabinets and slammed it on the counter. Today was really turning out not to be his day. Wait. What was he thinking? Everyday wasn't his day.

 

_ Papyrus nearly lost it.  _

 

Here he was working his ass off, risking life and limb, only to be hit in the fucking skull with this shitstorm.

His brother was lazy, but what fucking excuse was that?

 

An unacceptable one, that's for sure.

 

A rage ignited inside the skeleton that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He remembered a time when his brother wasn't like this. When he was normal. When Papyrus could actually have a conversation with him. But now, now what was the point. Maybe Sans could only answer to one thing. 

 

He was going to have to make his life a living nightmare.

 

Papyrus could feel himself breathing heavy as he tightly clenched the stirring spoon in his hand. What was that saying his brother always used to spew when people would mess with him?

 

_ “Ya gonna have a bad time,” _

  
  


Yeah, that sounded just about right.

  
  


Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, loud clapping came from whatever TV program his brother was watching. God, he nearly jumped from his unpresent skin when he heard it. 

 

_ ‘The TV was on. Right.’ _

 

But did he really just drown it out this whole time, or did it get louder? It must've gotten louder. Papyrus was very observant, yet he somehow managed not to see the filth earlier, and little things like that would've not gone unnoticed. Was Sans mocking him? Turning up the volume in a way to block out his little fit? Well there will be none of that.

  
  


_ He'll deal with his ass soon enough _ .

  
  


Every second the tall skeleton stood there listening to the repugnant cheering, inched him closer to snapping. God, it was so headache inducing. What was Sans even watching? 

 

Mettaton was sure working his audience, but oh! how his voice was torture to the ears. Don't get him wrong, Papyrus usually enjoyed whatever flick the robot was in, but the over exaggerated screeching really could start getting annoying. Especially on max volume. Which was saying a lot coming from him. Undyne often would joke that people could hear Papyrus a mile away since he was so boisterous. 

 

_ The louder he got, the easier it was to drown out his thoughts. _

  
  


Trying not to focus on the noise, Papyrus began to scoop large spoonfuls of spaghetti into his bowl. He dug in the soup of tomato sauce and meat chunks, attempting to get the most in as little dips as possible. He needed to hurry so he could shut the “racket box” off. 

 

Nearly filling his bowl up to the top, his fingers slipped as the scolding hot spaghetti spilt down his arm, armor, and all over the wet floor.

 

It was a complete mess. A mess on top of more mess. He almost screamed when he noticed his leather top was now stained.

 

How disgusting his environment was;  _ this kitchen _ . 

 

Dishes were piled so high they nearly toppled over, their cheesy wallpaper was now peeling with grime coating the panel underneath, and the freezer was leaking a puddle of water all over the floor, mixing in with the spaghetti. All things that were added to the damn checklist to fix. 

 

He specifically remembered telling Sans in person to pull out this hideous wallpaper and replace it with the tile in the basement. 

 

_ “GREAT STARS!” _

 

And,  _ Oh _ ! how his ulna began to burn it nearly blazed a glowing red. This wouldn't be the first time Papyrus felt such intense pain, but god how it felt like his bone marrow was about to melt. 

 

He dashed over to the cluttered sink, quickly turning on the tap and forcing his arm under the running water. It helped get him  _ clean, _ but not ease the burn since he hadn't noticed the water was hot. He was such an idiot. 

 

_ Idiot, idiot, idiot. _

 

Cursing perfusively, Papyrus torn his shirt and  right glove off, wrapping the fabric around his radius and ulna in an attempt to somewhat bandage his aching bone. He needed medicine, but goddamnit! He also needed to release all this built up rage.

 

Feeling the pain quickly rise to his head, Papyrus bashed the cabinet with his injured fist. He did it again and again. 

 

_ He bashed and he bashed and he bashed _ until the wood caved in and a massive hole stood in its place. 

 

His anger didn't die down, though. The opposite was true as he found himself throwing dinner plates at the wall, only receiving a miniscule amount of satisfaction as they shattered on impact. He was practically envisioning his brother’s smug face. It was strangely so punchable at that moment.

 

* _ crash* _

 

_ *crash* _

 

_ *crash* _

 

One by one as the glass flew everywhere as his rage continued to blaze like a hungry flame engulfing everything in its path. 

 

He wanted nothing more then to make this pain go away, it made him feel weak in ways he rather not comprehend. But this agony brought about a strange feeling from inside him. He wanted to inflict it so badly that he honestly didn't care who it was that met his furious kicks and punches. He just wanted, no  _ needed _ , to see that satisfyingly shocked look in his victim's eyes just before he took the final blow. 

 

He didn't know when his odd fascination with pain started. He wasn't sure if its always been there, always been dormant inside him. Or forced upon him due to certain circumstances.

 

Would this make him a sadist? Would enjoying people’s pain make him..

 

.. _ evil?  _

  
  


Maybe. He would often get a tingly feeling in his lower half whenever he was victorious in a brutal fight. A brutal fight that he would  _ always _ cause, and that would  _ always _ end in a merciless death. 

 

But what did he know? He knew nothing.

 

Papyrus barely knew anything about “sex”, which was just overly embarrassing given his age. He's dreaded it for so, so long. Hell, his first time only happened six months back.

 

Well his first time willingly,

 

and with a female. 

 

A female who he couldn't help but stare at. Couldn't help but follow her. Try to get to know her. Hear her voice. Touch her soft skin. Kiss her soft lips. Pull her soft hair.

 

She was so  _ small _ and so  _ innocent _ . She reminded him of himself before the storm hit and fractured his mind into a million small pieces. 

 

So he ignored the instructions given by Undyne if ever placed in that situation. He ignored his consciousness screaming at him, telling him not to do it. He ignored whatever small slither of morale he was so desperately clinging onto. 

 

_ And he went for her _ .

 

**(**)**

The whole time on top of the small creature all he could think about was tightening his grip on her neck. Beating her with his fists until she turned black and blue. As she screamed for him to stop, screamed for him to get off of her.  _ Begged. Cried. Plead _ . Until he shoved his dick up her so hard her blood sprayed like a fountain all over her torn panties. He was cumming again, and again, and again as she fought with all her little might. 

 

This was “sex” wasn't it? It's what your supposed to do, right? Pain was a part of it. Pain was always apart of it. Pain is what he remembered when he was  _ small _ and  _ innocent _ like this child.

 

_ “Sex” is pain. Pain is “sex”. _

 

His large size swallowing her whole as he fucked her shaking body. As he  _ raped _ her over, and over, and over again. And once he was done, he wanted to see her hollow tear-soaked eyes as she was left a shell of her former self. Just as he was left a shell of his former self.

 

It felt so good. “Sex” felt good for once. 

 

For a while he wanted nothing more than to shed his stupid childish ignorance, and know what it felt like to be on top, not laying on his stomach being forced to  _ take it _ like a “man”. And once he did, once he felt that  _ power _ , he became addicted. 

**(**)**

 

He also felt so sick, so dirty, so despicable. He liked “sex” but he also hated it so much. He hated what it did to him, hated how it made him feel. He hated how it was the one source of his cooped up misery. Most of all, he hated having to coming home afterwards and see his brother's face.

 

Sans was a pathetic drunk. He hasn't been sober in years, and yet

 

_ he felt ashamed. _

  
  


And admittingly scared, and guilty, since he didn't know how his brother would react if he found out. He wanted so desperately to believe Sans would do the right thing and shun him for his horrible actions. He wanted his brother to vow to never speak to him again because he was a filthy rapist. But he knew, he knew that most likely wouldn't be the case. 

 

Sans would most likely laugh it off. Most likely praise him. Most likely encourage him to do it again.

 

_ Most likely want to participate next time.  _

 

And oh! How his head started to spin, as the pain got worse, and that dumb feeling of vulnerability started to take over. Papyrus was just more furious.  

 

_ He just wasn't suited for this cruel world. _

 

And to be honest, Papyrus couldn't handle stress too well. There might have been a time when he would stop, think, and try to work things out, but that part of him was long gone. The only way he knew how to handle any situation now, was through violence.

 

Violence was wonderful.

 

Oh so wonderful, since his size and LOVE already gave him an unfair advantage. All he needed to do was funnel all that fear and insecurities, that pure sadness and hatred for self, into his fists, and the blows would do the speaking. It turns out his knuckles were quite the smooth talker. More charismatic than he could ever be. 

 

As the crowd on the television applauded , Papyrus preceded to kick apart their dining room furniture. As he snapped the wood of the chair's frame, he fantasized about snapping his brother's neck just the same. Hearing the cracking echo in his unpresent ear lobe was almost like listening to a heavenly lullaby. 

 

Soothing but unsettling.

 

Sans needed to pay for all of this. For the dumb mess. For his dumb stress. For those dark times when they were younger and he didn't protect him. He sat and watched. He joined. He did nothing.

 

He's always doing nothing. Always doing nothing. Always doing absolutely nothing. 

 

“SANS YOU LAZY BONES!” Papyrus used to yell at him. He used to joke and play around with his “big” brother, but all the while his grudge would grow stronger. 

 

Sans, with that shit-eating grin plastered on his stupid face, would respond with an awful pun. Something like,

 

“aww c'mon bro, I can't help it if I nap all the time. I usually have a skele- _ ton _ on my plate,”

 

and then a chuckle.  And Papyrus would often wonder, if forced back in time, would Sans kid around with that tasteless “humor” of his, while Papyrus was being-

 

While he was  _ violated _ several times over?  Would fear still be his worthless excuse? Would he blame it on him being just a little “babybones”? Oh, or maybe it was the vodka’s fault. Pfft, he was always full of excuses. What a coward. What a dumb coward.

 

_ His brother was nothing more than a pathetic drunk. _

 

His brother deserved nothing more than death. He was useless. He was worthless. Scum of the earth. A real pile of shit. 

 

But why was Papyrus the only one left to feel so, so  _ dirty _ . 

 

{~}

 

Doomfanger stretched her hind legs on the sofa armrest as her master finally stormed into the living room. By the sound of things, the kitchen was probably torn apart. This caused the kitty to purr in delight. She just loved when her master was destructive. 

 

Preparing for more loud yelling, Doomfanger jumped on Sans’ chest. Spinning around until she found a comfortable position to rest. She didn't know much about him, but was pretty positive the “fat” one could easily sleep through a hurricane.

 

___ 

  
  


“SANS!” Papyrus started. He looked at his resting brother, hoping so desperately that he was having awful nightmares, similar to those he was forced to endure every single night. He hoped the nightmares were so bad they would kill him right there in his sleep. He hoped his brother would just die from the guilt. Just die already.

 

_ Just die. Just die. Just die. _

  
  


“EXPLAIN YOURSELF NOW! WHY IN ASGORE’S NAME IS MY HOUSE AN UTTER PIGSTY!” 

 

Sans didn't respond. His brother was facing away from him. His head laid limp against the couch cushions. Bottles littered every surface in the room and crowded the floor. Mustard was smeared on the carpet, 

 

‘ _ The white fucking carpet!’ _

 

and it smelled worse in here than it did in the kitchen. This was probably due to the fact that garbage was piled on the coffee table.

 

_ Really?  _ Was the floor not good enough. They put food on there and now it was contaminated. He needed to throw the whole livingroom away now. Nothing could be saved, 

 

not even Sans. 

 

He hated how quiet he was being. Laying there just ignoring him like always. Did he really mean that little to him? Did he even care?

 

_ Did he ever care? _

 

Anger took over again, as Papyrus crept slowly behind the slothful bitch and hit him hard against his skull. 

 

* _ smack* _

Why couldn't his brother be different? Why couldn't he just not ruin everything he touched? Why couldn't life ever be good to him?

 

He just wanted answers. Simple answers, so why couldn't Sans answer him. Just answer him already.

 

But he got no response from his brother. He hit him again with more force. 

 

* _ smack* _

 

Sans was still motionless. Was he that deep in slumber? He knew his brother was a heavy sleeper, but this was just getting ridiculous.

 

Papyrus examined the lifeless body in front of him. His brother's eye sockets were opened wide with absolutely no light shining from them. It was like looking into two black voids. The grin on Sans face was gone, and as Papyrus got closer he noticed his chest was barely raising. 

 

_ Did he really hit him that hard? _

 

Pfft, come on. Sans experienced worst than just two taps on the forehead. Was he still keeping up his stupid act? Was this even an act? Did he honestly find this funny? 

 

Papyrus was not in the mood. 

 

“GET UP!” He commanded as he violently shook him. Again, no reaction. So he kept  _ shaking him, and shaking him, and shaking him _ . Sans’ head fell back as his neck was unable to support the weight. If he had eyeballs they would've been rolled back into his skull. 

 

_ Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. _

  
  


Saliva started to drip out of his gaping jaws, as Papyrus could hear his brother's soul thumping rapidly like a drum in his chest. 

 

Fear engulfing his every being, Papyrus gently tapped his brother's cheekbones. What was happening? Was he dying? 

 

No, he can't die. He can't leave him. He  _ can't _ .

  
  


“ S-SANS...GODDAMNIT SANS! ANSWER ME!”

 

Has he done it? Has all that alcohol finally caught up with him? He knew his brother was an idiot but why did he have to go to this extreme. Why did he have to be so selfish. Why couldn't he ever care.

 

Sans began struggling for air. His body’s twitching quickened.

 

Was Papyrus already too late? His brother wasn't dusting so he still had a chance to save him, right?

 

He didn't know how to handle this, what to do, who to call. Undyne might know, but would she help him? He doubted it. Like all of Snowdin, she probably thought it best if Sans was no longer a nuisance. Calling her would just take up valuable time he wasn't sure he had. 

 

_ What to do? What to do? What to do? _

 

If only he wasn't such a bumbling retard. If only he was as smart as his brother. If only father was here. He could save him, and after he did, he would most likely praise Sans for being such a “good boy”. Because it didn't matter what Sans did, he was always a “good boy”. 

 

And Papyrus was the mistake. A dumb mistake. 

 

Holding his palms to his aching head, he tried to think. He had to think of something. He had to do something. Suddenly something came to him.

 

_ Magic _ .

 

Of course! How dumb of him to forget the one thing that made up their entire existence. He could just poof Sans sickness, or whatever this was, away. 

 

In a flash he gently laid his brother on his back, jumping on top of him as he tried to calm himself. Healing magic wasn't something he was good at, nor was it something he used often except for those odd occasions when training with Undyne took a “deadly” turn. If he remembered correctly, healing magic required more concentration than his usual defensive magic. It also required more emotion, which might be a bit more tricky. He just needed to focus on how much he hated his brother. 

 

He hated him for being so neglectful and so disobedient. He hated him for not taking initiative, for being so damn lazy. He hated how he wouldn't stand up for himself. He hated him for being so weak. For not protecting him. For allowing the abuse to go on for years. Years upon years upon years. He didn't care because it didn't affect hin. He didn't care because for him, “sex” wasn't painful.  That bastard. This stupid bastard.

 

Papyrus’s magic was glowing a deep red. He was so close to hurting him. Maybe it would be best if he just...

 

.. _ Killed Sans _ .

 

That way no one had to suffer. His aching head wouldn't have to suffer. And Sans wouldn't have to explain why he didn't care.

 

Sans’ eyelids slowly began to close. Papyrus couldn't lose him.

Obviously negative thoughts weren't going to help. 

Rubbing his hands together and trying not to cringe from his injured arm, Papyrus shot a small electric shock into his brother's chest cavity. 

 

Sans’ body jerked, as his back arched up when the blast pulsated through him. Papyrus shocked him again.

 

And again…

 

And again…

 

Until his brother was no longer struggling for air, but taking it in longer amounts with every breath. He then started choking and wheezing as his inhales got carried away. He looked like a total defenseless bonehead.

 

Papyrus was close to smacking him again for making him go through that. He didn't, though. Was he okay now?

 

He suddenly felt a strong heaviness in the room. 

 

The eye lights in his brother’s sockets slowly began to surface. Small pinpricks in each dark void.

 

Sans layed there staring at the ceiling. Papyrus sat there staring at his brother. And for a while no one said a word. No one moved.

 

Papyrus wanted nothing more than to know what was going on in his brother's mind. What did he do? Why did he do it? 

 

_ Why didn't he care? _

 

Sans then opened his mouth. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn't get it out. So he didn't. He didn't look at Papyrus. He couldn't. 

 

Instead he stood up. He turned around. Red smoke began to materialize from his right eye, and the heaviness in the room got more suffocating. 

 

With a gust of magic, Papyrus was shocked when a blaster hovered in front of his older brother.

 

“What are you doing?” Papyrus whispered in a quiet voice that was far too foreign compared to his usual booming speech. 

 

It was odd. From all the questions he kept asking himself that day. All the questions that kept coming back and making less and less sense each time they came about. All those questions, and for some reason he knew this one. He knew it well. 

 

_ Too well _

 

Was he wrong all this time? Did Sans care all along? Did he feel anything, anything other than his selfish pride? 

 

Was it guilt? Was guilt bring him to the point of aiming his own magic at his head. Was it the guilt making him materialize that red glow in the mouth of the decapitated beast. Was it the guilt that pried its jaws open just as it was about to release all that energy. All that energy on his brother. 

 

But it couldn't. Sans can't leave him. _ He can't _ .

 

Papyrus took a deep breath before he plunged forward. Tackling Sans down as the large beam of light shot through the room. It just missed them.

 

_ It just missed them _ .

 

And for the first time since they're were very little, Papyrus saw tears soaking his brother's face as he refused to look at him. Refused to see the shame in his eyes. Refused to acknowledge what he did. 

 

Because it wasn't just alcohol that nearly killed him. He took something else. 

 

“You big idiot,” Papyrus said. His voice still so strangely low. He was crying now and he didn't know why. He didn't know why he was so weak. He didn't know why this had him shaking. He didn't know why he even bothered to save this  _ pathetic drunk _ . He didn't know why he was yelling,

 

“ _ I FUCKING HATE YOU!” _

 

_ Over.. _

  
  


_ And over… _

  
  


_ And over again. _

  
  


But he didn't hate Sans. Papyrus hated himself. He hated himself for being so dirty. He hated how he would never quite be a man. He hated how he had to overcompensate because of this fact. He hated how he raped a little girl just so..

 

...just so “sex” wouldn't be painful.

 

It wouldn't be painful for him anymore. And he hated how Sans somehow knew.

 

He could tell by the way he continued to not look at him. By the way his brother cried, and he cried, and they both cried. He knew Sans knew.

 

_ He knew _ .

 

Maybe that's why Sans drank. Maybe that's why he tried to take his own life. Right in front of him. Right in front of the child rapist.

 

“I'm sorry...I'm so so sorry,” Papyrus cried into his palms. Sans didn't move. He didn't comfort him. He didn't care.


	2. Bottles & Bottles of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing too disturbing in this chapter so no little "(**)" :)

The wind blew softly through the open window. A new blanket of snow covered the rooftops of Snowdin as the early morning sun hit. It was a Saturday, so there wasn't too much commotion on the streets just yet. 

 

Sans’ eyelids shot up. A sudden heavy ringing in his ear cavities disturbed his uncomfortable slumber. He held his hand to his aching head as all of yesterday’s memories came crashing down on him like a bolt of lighting. 

 

_ What time was it? _

 

Sans attempted to sit up as he ignored the assault on his poor skull. Looking around his room, he was freaked out by the flickering of colors. One second his dirty clothes pile was a mixture of blues, reds, and other solid primary colors, and the next, it was a blob of grey, black and white. Was he on the verge of going colorblind. 

 

God, that was the last thing Sans needed.

 

Color was the only thing that brightened up his dull world. That was probably the same for most people, but hey. He just really hoped this was a bad hangover rather than some strange side effect of the “substance” he took, two days ago? Or was it yesterday? 

 

It was hard enough for him to keep up with time on his own, but when he took one sniff of the “substance”, hours felt like minutes, yet seconds felt like whole centuries. 

 

It was beyond plain bizarre. At one point in his “trip” he could've swore he started to grow muscle and skin only to have it melt off into a puddle on the floor. This puddle suddenly grew sentinel as it continuously barked insults at him. Demanding that he do something with his life and stop being such a drugged up loser. It then took shape into a woman and claimed to be the mother he never had. Constantly calling him  “My sweet baby boy” and rubbing her gooey hands on his back. 

 

Shortly after that, the world turned black and his mind went blank, and he awoke with his brother on top of him.

 

Which at first caused him to be briefly confused. He wasn't sure if he was still “tripping” or not. Papyrus never touched him. Never touched him in anyway that wasn't a quick backhand slap, or more serious punishment, whenever he was mad enough and Sans got way out of line. 

 

He would of thought nothing more to it if it wasn't for what he found in his brother’s closet a few weeks ago. Just the memory alone was hurting him more than a lifetime of resets. Resets spend completely alone since no one ever remembers what happened after the world reset. No one but Sans of course. 

 

He can't even recall when they first started. Just that one second life was normal, and the next, he was hit with a tsunami of “deja vu” moments. Being forced to relive days, weeks, and even months over and over again. He didn't know why it was happening, or why he was the only one left to suffer. But his mind was set on this being some form of purgatory. 

 

Yeah, Sans must've died way back when, and now he was paying for his sins.

 

So why not drink it all away? When he's drunk he can easily forget how shitty this situation is. 

 

But it only seemed to get worse. So much worse when he found that  _ thing  _ in his brother's closet. 

 

Then flashbacks of a period, Sans truly believed was lost in time, hit him hard. A period going back before he was officially working under Gaster, a period that was so foggy in his mind that he honestly never bothered to fully recall it. 

 

But he tried that day.

 

He tried after leaving Papyrus’ room covered in cold sweat. He tried as he fell to the floor, shaking. He tried because he needed to know what brought his once  _ innocent  _ brother to that point. 

 

But it didn't matter how much he tried, he couldn't get anywhere. Until last night. After he managed to get himself up and “shortcut” to his room. After he laid limp on his bed. After he shut his eyes listening to his brother's muffled sobs. 

 

It all made sense then. And Sans felt sick, confused, and guilty. He wished so desperately to just die right there. He absolutely hated himself. He hated himself because..

 

_..he was aroused. _

 

Sans jumped when he heard his bedroom door shut. Standing at the foot of his mattress was his 8 foot tall brother holding a rag and a bucket of steaming water. Sans cleared his throat before turning his head towards the wall.  _ Great, now what did he want.  _

 

“I HAVE COME, BROTHER…” 

 

Papyrus dropped the bucket on the floor before wringing the rag out and getting on his knees. 

“...TO GIVE YOU A SPONGE BATH! PLEASE REMOVE YOUR CLOTHING,” 

 

Keeping his gaze away from his brother, Sans scoffed.  _ Like hell he would _ . He quickly zipped up his open hoodie and pulled his dirty sheets up to his chin as he layed back down. 

 

Papyrus hadn't talked in such a way for a while. He hadn't had that compassionate tone in his voice. he was always loud, though. And that got annoying quick.

 

“SANS-”

 

“Get out,” he said before pausing. “..please,”

 

Sans then shut his eyes again as he tried to fall back asleep. He couldn't deal with him right now, not while the room was still flickering. Not while his headache was violently pulsating throughout his skull. Not while he felt like he was about to throw up a flood of liquor, soggy old hot dogs, and blood. Not while he felt like shit.

 

Papyrus sat there saying nothing for what felt like an eternity. Just fiddling with the fabric of his bottoms. Listening to Sans’ angry breathing.  

 

Sans couldn't tell what he was planning, thinking, or anything. Was he upset? Did Sans somehow offend him? It wouldn't be the first time something like that happened, and most likely wouldn't be the last. Especially with someone as sensitive as his younger brother.

 

Papyrus rolled up his sleeves and pulled the blankets off the bed. Not seeming phased in the slightest. 

 

“I KNOW YOU'RE ASHAMED OF WHAT YOU'VE DONE, BUT YOU SMELL AND LOOK LIKE DEATH. THEREFORE IT IS UP TO ME TO GET YOU BACK IN ORDER!”

 

Papyrus yelled as he tried tugging off Sans’ shorts. Surprised with the sudden action, Sans smacked his hand away. Smelled and looked like death? 

 

Bullshit! 

 

_ He smelled worse. _

 

“What the fuck are you doin’! I told you to get out, so leave!” 

 

With that the two brothers began a game of tug-o-war with Sans shorts. Heaving back and forth as one tried to overpower the other. They kept it up for a minute, but it didn't take long for his obviously more stronger younger sibling to be victorious. The piece of clothing came off, and was flung on the floor with the rest of the trash that littered the room. 

 

Feeling a rush of magic rise to his cheeks, Sans stood up on his bed before Papyrus could get the chance to remove his boxers.

 

This was not a good time. Not a good time at all. Sans could feel the pressure pushing up against the fabric near his pelvis. It was a good thing Papyrus wasn't looking anywhere near there.

 

“Look I ain't comfortable with you doing this! Just stop and get out!” Sans barked once more. This time trying to cover his private area. Papyrus didn't budge.

 

“SANS…” His brother paused before getting deadly quiet. 

 

Oh God. why was his erection getting bigger? Why was he getting so turned on by this? Why was his brother now practically eye level with his dick. Did he see it? Sans wasn't prepared for what he was going to say next. Whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. 

 

_ Not good. Not good at all. _

 

“..you’ve seen her, didn't you?” His brother practically whispered. 

 

It took Sans a moment to realize who he was talking about, and once he did his face morphed into a frown.

 

It was  _ that _ obvious wasn't it? Papyrus probably had cameras in his room. Sans would install camaras if he was trying to hide something as demonic like that little  _ freak _ . Got to make sure she doesn't escape and cause mass havoc. Plus, as an extra bonus he could always replay everything he's done to her. Bask in every minute of his gorish homemade snuff film. Enjoy each puncture wound he caused on her little body. Grin at each burn that crisps her delicate skin. Mock her as she cries, and then stomp her head in against the pavement, flat.

 

_ What a twisted bastard he was. _

 

Well he couldn't help his emotions if they came across as disappointed or disgusted at his brother. 

 

He was usually good at such things. Good at keeping a smirk on his face no matter what he was truly feeling at a given moment. But now, now at this very second he found it difficult. 

 

_ What was so special about this girl? _

 

She literally made his life a living hell many times before in many different timelines. She literally mascaraed everyone he knew. Everyone he loved. 

She's killed Papyrus over and over and over again without second thought. And yet, yet his brother brought her here, let her in their house, in his room, and for what? He knew Papyrus didn't remember any of the timelines or ever meeting the little pest before, but still...

 

..she was still a human.

 

Why wasn't his first reaction to capture her, or kill her, or drag her away to Undyne? He's done it before. He's done it many times in the pasts long forgotten. But he didn't do it then, and this utterly baffled Sans. What did he do different this time around? 

 

_ What did he do so different? _

 

He's relived so many days over that life felt a broken record. People would repeat everything they said, done, thought, and Sans would be the only one to notice. Life wasn't very fun anymore. Life was getting extremely annoying. Life was oh! so repetitive.  

 

But now something was different. Different in a way Sans didn't like. He didn't like his brother's emotions, or the words he's never heard his brother recite before. He didn't like Papyrus’ facial expressions, didn't like how he wasn't expecting him to barge into his room demanding he have a “sponge bath”. 

 

But worst of all, he didn't like this deep rooted jealousy he now felt. Papyrus wasn't supposed to come in contact with the  _ anomaly.  _

 

“Sans,” Papyrus looked dead serious as he continued to speak in a low voice. It sounded so weird to Sans’ “ears” that he honestly didn't think he actually heard it. 

 

Fear suddenly surfaced as Sans wasn't sure how to respond to his question. He didn't know how to respond to him in general. Everything was just so messed up. 

 

_ So messed up. So messed up. So messed up. _

 

He just couldn't deal with it at the moment. He couldn't laugh it off. Why couldn't Papyrus just leave? Why couldn't he leave him to suffer alone? Why did he have to find that stupid girl? 

 

In a cowardious attempt to flee, Sans tried to take a “shortcut” out of his room, only for a shock to hit his body instead of a rush of magic. He yelped as his body convulsed violently from the sudden bolts of electricity. Confused, Sans turned to his brother. 

 

“Why ...can't..I..” He managed to get out between frantic breaths. Papyrus’ was still so serious. Was it seriousness or emotionless? Sans couldn't tell, but it sent chills down his spine nonetheless. 

 

It took Papyrus seconds, very long fucking seconds, before he replied. “I took your magic away using the collar. You don't need it if it's going to be used as a tool for you to commit suicide,”

 

Suicide? Oh yeah, he did do that. He did try to end it all yesterday. But would it really matter? He was sure he would've been brought back after the next reset. And the collar, God the stupid collar.

 

He oddly remembered the day so clearly. He remembered the humiliation he felt after being strapped down, beaten, and forced to put the large leather around his neck. He remembered as Papyrus locked it with his magic, as he screamed at him. Telling him ‘this would be the last time you screw up and get away scot free’. It's funny since it wasn't, but it also sucked that the reset didn't go back enough so he wouldn't be forced to wear it. But now it was practically a part of him, and as time went on, he forgot it was even there. 

 

_ Until whenever Papyrus was really upset that rage took over his mind, and he did things he wouldn't normally do.  _

 

Then a nice reminder of his little “accessory” would surface, and he would feel even less than a starving dog on the street.

  
  


Sans tried to nervously laugh off his brother's comment. 

 

“Hahaha..c'mon bro you didn't really think-” He finally said after recovering from the shock. Still breathing heavy as he tried to calm himself.

 

Papyrus crossed his arms as he interrupted. “Save it. I'm honestly not in the mood to hear one of your many excuses,”

 

“Then I won't give you an excuse, I'll give you the truth,”

 

“Not interested.”

 

“Well how the fuck am I supposed to manage around town without magic? What do I do if some idiot tries to mug me-” Sans surprisingly blew up. He didn't know why he was suddenly so mad. 

 

“I'll be there to stop and deescalate the situation before anything serious happens. Nothing for a royal guard such as myself to worry about,”

 

“Yeah? Well you ain't with me 24/7, you inconsiderate pig shit!”

 

The room then grew quiet. 

 

_ God! He fucked up. _

 

Sans stared up and down his brother in hopes of finding even a slither of emotion from him. He didn't. Papyrus stared back at him. His eyelights focused on Sans sockets. It started to feel tense.

 

_ Very tense _ .

 

Then Papyrus spoke again in that same flat low voice. “It's your fault.” He took a deep breath. “I blame you for all of this. You're such a weak pathetic little being. It disgusts me that you think you can simply run away from all of your problems-- from what you did,” Papyrus’ sockets narrowed. “By taking solitude in a bottle-”

 

Was this a joke? Sans knew he probably should zip it, and let Papyrus say what he had to say, but he couldn't. It wasn't like he was lying. Everything he said was one hundred percent correct. But right now Sans was a hit dog, so he had to holler.

 

“Heh well I'm so sorry you have such a  _ bone _ to pick with me, little bro, since..you know.. I didn't do shit to you. But hey! look at the bright side, if you keep telling yourself that, you won't have to own up to  _ your _ own stupid mistakes.” Sans than winked at him. Gold tooth glimmering as he grinned spitefully. 

 

That might've been a bit unnecessary, but who cares? Sans sure didn't. Or at least he wanted to come off as such.

 

Papyrus got to his feet. Picked the bucket of soapy water up and dumping it all over Sans. Drenching his sheets and creating a small puddle on the floor. 

 

And just like that, he was on top of him yanking his clothes off.

 

Shocked than furious by his actions, Sans began kicking at his brother’s thighs trying to get him off. Digging his claws in his brother's sockets, as they wrestled on his mattress. Grunting and growling as Sans bit the big idiot's femur. Papyrus retaliated back by pushing his skull into his pillow, forcing his head to the left as he pressed down on his cheek. They kept this up for minutes as they started punching and nearly strangling each other. 

 

Once again, Papyrus stood victorious as he managed to pin Sans in a headlock, leaving his brother completely immobile.  

Feeling a bit exhausted from the tussling, Papyrus torn Sans shirt off. 

 

He stopped and let go once he saw Sans’ ribcage.

 

“Get the fuck off me you filthy pervert! I don't need my magic to kill ya! You hear me! I can still slit your throat-”

 

“What happened to you?” Papyrus asked mortified. He wasn't sure what he was looking at. What Sans had done to his body. Why three of his rib bones where missing. 

 

“DID YOU ACTUALLY MUTILATE YOURSELF! IS THIS A RESULT OF ONE YOUR FAILED ATTEMPTS!?!” Papyrus yelled.

 

That wasn't the case, was it? He couldn't remember. It was a crazy night when it all happened, when he was drinking a lot at some stranger's house. Why was he there? He had no idea. It might've been a party, or maybe someone dragged him inside, or maybe he walked into the wrong house. 

 

There was just booze, than puke, than the saw, and the rest was history. 

 

Ha! Now that he thought about it, that might've been the same day he first took a sniff of the “substance”. If only he could remember the faces. Maybe than he could find a better dealer. 

 

_ ‘Always making light of things, huh Sans?’ _

 

Grimacing at the sudden pain in his chest, Sans refused to view that as a bad memory. It was. It was very bad and plain stupid. He was sure if he was sober his ribs wouldn't be missing. He would’nt have that agonizing hammering in his head. He wouldn't be so scared to leave the house. But you live and you learn, right? 

 

He'll make a mental note not to ever visit the Eastern side of Snowdin in the next reset. 

 

“ _ Tibia _ -honest, no one told ya to strip me down, heh,” Sans regrettably retorted. It was a dumb pun.

 

A very dumb pun. 

 

He could tell by the way Papyrus’ jaw slanted, by the fury that quickly festering in his brow bones. He could tell by the way he clenched his fists and puffed out air from his nose cavity like an angry dragon. He could tell that comment alone pushed his brother's last button. And he knew that if he didn't do something fast, that comment would be his last.

 

_ Which didn't sound too bad now that he thought about it.  _

 

But dying by the hands of a bitching Papyrus didn't seem like such a flattering way to go. Definitely less flattering than dying of an overdose. 

“I..ah” Sans finally let out just as his brother's breathing started to pick up pace. Staring at his large gloved fists, Sans nearly cringed. Getting hit with those babies never felt too good. 

 

“I'm sorry you had to see that, little...brother,”

 

Sans hesitated as he put much thought in what he was going to say next. Papyrus was still practically foaming at the mouth with rage. The dumb thing to do would be to escalate the situation more by saying something so fucking stupid. But Sans wasn't sure he could do that. 

 

_ Everything he says is fucking stupid. _

 

Papyrus was on edge even before he walked into his room, right? Hell, he was on edge from before Sans decided to take the “substance”. He can easily take advantage of this, he just can't mess it up. 

 

“I harm myself whenever I..uh..whenever I think..um.. about..-let's see-..about what I did to ya. Yeah? Yeah! It was horrible and...and I'm sorry, Paps” Probably the most ingenuine apology ever. Not even a child would fall for that. God he was such an idiot-

 

“REALLY? AND WHAT  _ EXACTLY _ ARE YOU SORRY FOR?” Papyrus crossed his arms as he waited for a response. 

 

“I told you, didn't I? I said I'm sorry about what I did-”

 

“YES I HEARD THAT PART, BUT WHAT  _ EXACTLY _ DID YOU DO?”

 

Did he want him to lie? He was already lying, but did he want him to lie more? Sans did feel a bit bad about whatever it was that happened in their shitty childhood, but he regretted nothing. 

 

_ Absolutely nothing.  _

 

So now what does he say? He told Papyrus what he thought he wanted to hear but he's still sitting there waiting. Why couldn't he just get the hell out his room and let him droop in peace. God, would an “I don't know” suffice as a good enough answer? Probably not.

 

“I..um,” This was starting to get uncomfortable. Sans scratched the back of his skull as he nervously chuckled. What did he do again? He was sure it wasn't anything compared to what he saw in his brother's closet. But maybe it was. Maybe it was worse. How would he know? His mind is always all over the place. He barely bothers to remember anything past a week since everything was destined to repeat itself anyway. 

 

_ It was a waste. This was dumb. _

 

Who was he kidding. He knew, not a lot, but enough to keep himself up at night where he wouldn't have to fantasize too much as he stroked one out. 

 

_ What a twisted bastard he was. _

 

Man, he was really such a disgusting creep. Maybe if he hadn't lost what little conscious he had 20 resets or so ago, then maybe he would feel sick to his “stomach”. Right now, though, he felt nothing but annoyance. 

 

Why can't a man ever be left alone? Was that really too much to ask? He might as well just get this over with.

 

“I'm sorry for ramming your asshole in the way I did. I should've known better than to not take my time with a virgin such as yourself,” 

 

Yeah. That was definitely the smart thing to say. Or was it? If only that ringing would go away, then he could start to think straight.

 

Sans hadn't noticed his head was spinning until he realized he was currently making out with the wall. Papyrus smacked him so hard he was nearly knocked out. Sans was going to accept defeat and stay down when he was grabbed by his collar and violently thrown off the bed. Landing in a pile of beer cans, Sans yelped. 

 

“You find that funny, huh? We'll see how you like it,” Papyrus said in a hushed tone as he undid his belt.

 

Damn! Sans really needed to think more before he speaks. It would've saved him a lot of trouble in the past. But what did Papyrus mean by--

 

“Woah! Woah wait! We don't have to go there, little bro. What do you think you'll gain from..uh..raping me?” Sans couldn't help but laugh. This was funny. This whole thing was so fucking hilarious. God, its been a while since things have been so  _ unexpected,  _ so different. He couldn't help but get some amusement from the whole situation. 

 

Was it wrong if he hoped his brother was actually about to rape him. He wanted him to, oh how he really wanted him to. But now a question arose,

 

_ Can you rape the willing? _

  
  


Papyrus stopped, insulted. “WHAT!! I WOULD NEVER DO SOMETHING SO DEGRADING...A-AND JUST PLAIN WRONG! WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR!” He screamed, magic rushing to his cheeks. The skeleton slightly stuttered before continuing.

 

“I wasn't going to do that to you, but I'm sure you wouldn't be too willing to see me do it with-”

 

Sans cut him off. “I honestly don't give a damn. Go ahead and fuck the kid, see if I care,” He then tried to hide his blatant lie with a smug chuckle. He did care. He cared a lot. The anomaly shouldn't be touching his brother. She shouldn't be left alone in the same room with him. She was dangerous. She was no good for him. Why couldn't he see that?

 

_ God, Papyrus was such an idiot. _

 

He was such an idiot and that was why Sans had to protect him. He had to convince him not to do it, to just get rid of her. 

 

“I mean what do I look like tryna tell you  _ not _ to fuck a child..hehe.. Like what kind of sick person do you think I am that I would try to dictate what you do with your free time, right? Heh. Besides that shit ain't the worst thing you could do, you could always just, I don't know, kill her. Put her out of her horrible misery. I'm sure it'll clear your conscious right up. But Hey! What do I know,” 

 

Sans tried to come off as indifferent as he picked up one of the empty beer cans he was sitting on, and began tossing it in the air. 

 

Papyrus grew silent once more, but Sans knew he was probably thinking. Would he actually consider killing the little brat? It would make so much of there current problems just vanish away. It would be the greatest thing his brother has ever done. 

 

Once she was gone they could handle this whole “drinking” problem. Maybe Sans could clean himself up and get a job again. Maybe he could save up to finally get Paps that big house he's always wanted. Maybe they could talk like they used to. Maybe Sans could be happy.

 

_ Until the world reset. _

 

And who was he kidding, it was obvious the kid's deaths tied into that. The  _ anomaly _ dies, the world starts over. Sometimes going back days, or months, or fucking years. 

 

“I can't do that,”

 

“Eh..and why not? I take back what I said before, the worst thing you can do to the kid is what your doing now, so just end…  _ it _ ,”

 

“NO SANS. I'M NO MURDERER,” His brother said with a sick sort of pride. Puffing his chest out in that stupid herotic manner, as if he just risked his life rescuing a barrel of puppies from a burning building. If Sans had eyeballs they would've rolled back in his skull from the utter,

 

“Bullshit! You've dusted plenty of people. It's a piece of cake for you I'm sure, so just go do it! The bitch won't put up much of a fight,”

 

Ha! That was a lie. She  _ could _ put up a hell of a fight. It was laughable to think such a small creature could have the capability to nearly wipe out an entire species on her own, and do it in a matter of days.

 

With all the magic and science in the world, and yet monsterkind was still so weak and pathetic. 

 

“I CAN'T KILL SOMETHING AS INNOCENT AS A CHILD! TWO CHILDREN TO BE EXACT! THAT WOULD JUST MAKE ME… MAKE ME,” All the pride quickly left Papyrus’ face as he realized his obvious contradictions.

 

_ “...a monster,” _

 

“I was thinking more along the lines of a hypocrite, but whatever floats your boat,” Sans shrugged. Why was he making such a big deal out of this? 

 

Oh, how much he hated the  _ anomaly _ . That wicked aura of hers was really fucking his brother up. Fucking up his day. Fucking up his life and forcing immortality on the last person who would ever want it.

 

Death sounded so soothing, so comforting, yet he couldn't have it. It was dangling in his face by a string and it didn't matter how much he jumped, or climbed, or reached out for it, he could never get it. He could never feel that loving embrace of the reaper as he took his last breath. He could never taste that sweet precious freedom.

 

Tied down to his body, forced to live, forced to push forward until the end of time. Why him? Why him of all people? What could he have ever done to deserve such a fate?

 

_ This cruel, cruel world. That stupid bitch. _

 

She knew what she was doing to him and she mocked him every time. It was funny to her. It was the greatest thing ever. It didn't matter how many times he's brutally killed her. It didn't matter because she would always have the upper hand. She would always get a second chance. She would always come back. 

 

And the world would reset. It always did without fail.

 

“I can kill her. I'll do it for  _ you _ ,” 

 

Papyrus didn't respond. He didn't move. He didn't look shocked, or upset, or entertained or anything. He just kind of stood there. Just stood blankly, studying the wall behind Sans.

 

Why did that sound so wrong? Why did he care?  What was right or wrong, anyway? Morals were subjective since it didn't matter what he did, at the end of the day there would be no consequences. So why not slaughter her, or everyone else in Snowdin? Why not just steal a bunch of cash and get that “dreamhouse” his always wanted? Why not take all the booze that could fit down his throat at once? Why not flirt with Papyrus? Why not convince his brother to fuck him instead? Why not enjoy every second of it? 

 

Why not be a twisted bastard? It didn't matter anyway. It never mattered and never will.

 

Sans forced a yawn as he stretched his arms over his head. “Or whatever. Just do what you see fit. I got Z’s I need to catch up on... you mind getting out?” Sans asked half expecting his brother to be stubborn and still insist he have a sponge bath. He didn't, though.

 

Papyrus vaguely nodded his head before turning and grabbing his empty bucket. Seeing no point in trying to clean his mess up since the rest of Sans room was equally as dirty, he walked out the door, closing it on his way out. 

 

Sans stared at the spot his brother stood just seconds before. He felt vacant inside as he realized that whole heap of chaos was their first actual conversation in a while. It wasn't just one word responses or commands usually coming from Papyrus. They spoke to each other. Really spoke to each other, and it was awful. So awful. 

 

He was tempted to wish life wasn't the way it was. To hope things would get better, but that was just old and repetitive. Wishing, hoping, praying, believing, whatever it was, none of it worked. None of it did anything besides install a sense of false comfort. 

 

Life doesn't change, it stays the same. It doesn't matter what he does in this timeline or the next 30, he will still end up at this point. He’ll still be an alcoholic. He’ll still be an addict. He’ll still be a raging asshole who blames all of his problems on one single person, just like his brother. 

 

_ Life's a bitch, so fuck it. Fuck everything, and everyone. _

 

He planned on visiting Grillby’s that afternoon. He’ll have to make sure he brings a pocket knife now since he was “magic less”. That was going to suck, but he'll get used to it. He got used to everything else. Maybe by nightfall he'll “accidentally” slip off the roof. If he was fortunate enough he might snap his neck, and he might die.

 

And he might stay dead this time.

 

Taking a quick sniff under his armpit and gagging, Sans decided he would actually take a bath. When was his last shower anyway, like two months ago? 

  
  
  
  
  



	3. Bottles & Bottles of Determination

 

_ Frisk awoke to shouting. _

 

It was dark. The mattress she was bundled up in was extremely cold, and uncomfortable, and still damp with a mixture of different fluids. Fluids she rather not identify or acknowledge since it would only make her feel even more dirty.

 

_ She was so dirty _ .

 

And in so much pain, but her body told her to ignore it, to focus on something else. This was hard, though. Very hard, since there wasn't much in her little cell. Just a few boxes and her “bathroom” bucket and the chain that kept her attached to the back wall. She also had the mattress and- 

 

Frisk held her breath as she heard the creak of the stairs.  _ Was he coming? _ She could never tell what time it was since there weren't any windows in the room. There was also no light. Just the light he would bring with him whenever he decided to visit.

 

She shivered as she thought about it. It wasn't too late at night, was it? Was it even night? 

 

Frisk knew he had to work, and he usually worked for majority of the day. But if she could hear him shouting then he was obviously home. He was home and upset. Which was nothing new. From the long draining months she's spent in the cell, he would easily be angry and yelling ninety percent of that time. 

 

**(**)**

Beating her and hurting her in ways she wished she didn't have to think about. Twisting her by the arm, grabbing her by the cheeks, forcing his surprisingly heavy weight on her tiny body. Pinning her down as she cried. As she promised to be good. As she tried to tell him something, anything, to get him off of her. 

 

_ It was all in vain.  _

 

Driven completely by lust, he would still proceed to pull his pants off, rip the little clothing she had covering her, bend her legs above her head as he squeezed her. Squeezed her so hard it would leave a nasty bruise in the morning.

 

This horribly evil man. This disgusting creature. This true  _ monster _ , would then split her open as he forcefully thrusted into her abused privates. As he picked open the swelling scabs. As he tore her tender flesh. As he played in the fresh blood. Whipping it along her belly as if her body was a canvas and he was the painter.  She would feel so sick as he kissed her on her lips. Licking at her sweat and tears, and moaned softly in her ears. Going,

 

_ in and out, in and out, in and out, _

 

until she lost count and gave up on trying to stay conscious throughout all the pain. Sometimes he would let her “sleep”, he wouldn't try to revive her while he was still going at it. And sometimes he wouldn't. 

 

He would smack her awake or enforce more brutal agony until the lights in her brain would flicker back on and bring her back to reality. Back in the cell. Back on the mattress. Back underneath him.

 

She wouldn't be able to control her sobbing then. She would just cry and cry until she couldn't catch her breath. This would start the gasping and hiccup fits that he never liked, so he would choke her or force her mouth shut. Anything not to ruin the “moment”.

**(**)**

  
  


But sometimes she would get lucky. Sometimes her brain would be nice enough to let the other girl take over. The girl who used to whisper horrible, awful things to her. The other girl who wanted her to take “initiative”, who wanted her to protect herself, who wanted her to stop being so weak.

 

Stopping being such a useless  _ child _ . 

 

Frisk found her mean and cruel. She didn't understand why she wanted to harm others. She couldn't understand her pure rage, until after some time the fire dwindled down. She too only felt utter sadness.

 

The other girl would cry with her, comfort her, and talk about a time when she was once happy. She wanted Frisk to be happy. And so the other girl, Chara, would start to talk to her. Not about harming others or doing something about their “situation”. But talk like kids do.

 

They talked about good things, happy things, pleasant things. Like what did Frisk want to be when she grew up? Who was her favorite cartoon character? Did she used to play in a pile of leaves in the fall, or cover her eyes and ears throughout the majority of a scary movie she really shouldn't be watching? How many candy has she ever eaten in one sitting? Who was her best friend? Did she have a playground crush? Was her older sister her role model or someone she would fight with constantly? And with all the questions and comments, Frisk would always gleefully respond to the blackness of the room.  _ Respond to Chara _ . The echo in her head laughing and joking in a playfully sarcastic manner.

 

_ They just talked about anything. _

 

Chara seemed so much older than her, knew so much, yet she was still a little girl. This is why they could relate so much, and this is why Chara gave up. Now all she wanted was to be happy, and she wanted her new friend to be happy too, so they made a deal. Whenever it started to get really bad and Frisk felt like she couldn't take it anymore, Chara would take over and handle it. 

 

And for the first time since Frisk fell down that cursed hole, she didn't feel so lost, so lonely, so  _ vulnerable _ . 

 

Chara was the only friend she had, the only one she could talk to, so Frisk started a habit of speaking aloud. From the outside looking in, she knew it looked crazy. She knew because the other skeleton told her. The skeleton that seemed so familiar. The skeleton that Chara knew so much about but refused to tell her. Refuse to elaborate when she referred to him as a “trash bag”. When she once told her to kill him because he was bad news. Frisk didn't know why, but she stopped questioning it. 

 

He started to visit her some time ago. At first he popped in on accident, he seemed shocked not to be greeted with an empty room only littered with boxes. He seemed shocked that the place was turned into a makeshift cell. He seemed shock to find  _ her  _ there.  And strangely he asked her what she was doing there. How did she get in their house? What was she planning? As if Frisk deliberately decided to be kidnapped and then forcefully harmed every night. 

 

The skeleton then went on to shout at her. Yelling things she did not comprehend. Calling her a “brother killer”, a dirty slut, and the  _ anomaly,  _ over and over again. 

 

She didn't know what any of it meant. She didn't like his aggressive manner. She didn't like the way he looked at her. Like he wanted to rip her head clean off, and she knew he could do it. He was much shorter than the other one, but he still towered over her. He still had huge palms the size of her face, and he could easily grab it and crush it until it was nothing more than bloody mush. 

 

Frisk didn't know why he was mad at her. She's never met him before, she's never done anything to him, yet he hated her. She didn't get it. And the fear started to dampen her eyes as she cried. And as she cried she screamed and bawled like a newborn, her hands trying so desperately to wipe away the non stop flow of tears and snot from her wet face. Her dismay grew stronger as she began her hiccup fit, half expecting him to get even more mad. Half expecting him to smack her, but he didn't. 

 

Instead his expression softened. 

 

“Aw c'mon, kid. Don't be such a crybaby, it ain't like I meant to spook you that bad,”  He then chuckled as his grin looked less intimidating. 

 

Frisk stopped sobbing once he held his bony hand out towards her. Confused she looked at it with wide eyes.

 

“Heh, your supposed to take it, kid.” 

 

Unsure, she took a hold of his grip. He smiled wide as he rapidly shook her hand, causing her upper body to bob with it. 

 

“I'm Sans. Sans the Skeleton,” He then said in a smuggish way. Frisk didn't introduce herself, she didn't speak, but he didn't seem to mind. She spent the whole afternoon, or at least that's what he told her, listening to him ramble on about nonsense.

 

He talked about a “Core” and giving up on trying to get to the surface. She didn't know what the surface was, but assumed it might've been the world above. The world from which she came, and if that was true, why give up? She definitely wouldn't. Not when she had a family waiting for her back home. 

 

But Chara did mention some of that stuff before.  Frisk just found it hard to pay attention. It felt like school, she knew the subjects they taught were supposed to be important, but she couldn't help if she started to daydream at the very boring parts. And everything felt like a boring part. So when Chara spoke about “The Way of The Underground”, Frisk thought about space aliens, dragons and princesses. Not paying any mind to any of the gibberish. Even when Chara claimed they've been through this multiple times, Frisk just could not comprehend it.

 

But Sans continued. He spoke about magic. Then something about souls that her little mind couldn't wrap around. And then resets. He talked a lot about resets. He went on and on about resets. Frisk was confused. What was being reset? Why did he care so much? Why was he so mad at her before? 

 

He grew quiet for a long time. Not saying anything. Looking very disturbed as he stared in her direction. He wasn't looking at her face, so Frisk traced his eyes until her own landed on her belly. It was big and swollen and she assumed he felt bad for her. 

 

The other skeleton gave her some sort of sickness. When she asked Chara about it, the other girl didn't know either. Chara told her if she slept more it might go away, or that the swelling should go down if she ate everything the big skeleton brought her. Or if she laid on her belly the extra air might pop and she would go back to normal. 

 

_ But none of that worked.  _

 

Maybe her stomach was about to explode. Maybe she was slowly dying. Maybe that's why he looked so sad.

 

“Paps did that to you, huh?” He asked. Who was Paps? Was he the other monster? She nodded.

 

“Well ain't that somethin’” He then pulled a bottled out of his hoodie and started slurping on it. Once he was done with his drink, he got up and patted her on the head. Confidence suddenly grabbed a hold of her as she gently spoke. “...please..help,” was the only thing  she managed to muster. 

 

Sans looked into the pool of her eyes as suddenly that pity he felt vanished into delight. His smirk grew, nearly splitting his face in two.

 

“No can do, kiddo. I think this is best for everyone. You'll get used to it soon enough,” He then snickered as he turned to walk away. Leaving her there trapped to that wall, on that mattress, in that cell. 

 

{-}

 

“GOOD MORNING, HUMAN!” A slender arm slowly opened the tiny door that was the only exit to freedom. Frisked pushed herself into a far corner as she attempted to get away from him as much as physically possible. Usually he would laugh at this. Tease her as he slowly crept closer. Knowing fully that she could do nothing to defend herself.  

 

Today, though, he didn't laugh. He stayed near the door holding her tray of food. Head hanging low as if he was ashamed to look at her. 

 

Frisk held her knees to her chest. They didn't get too close since her belly was preventing that. She really hated this sickness. Sometimes she would feel unbearable pain that would leave her paralyzed, other times if she breathed very slowly and felt around, she could feel something inside. It would kick at her fingers as if trying to feel her back. Chara believes it to be a parasite. Frisk didn't know what a parasite was, so she shrugged it off.

 

“Paps” was serious, so serious, and that scared the poor girl. Usually he would want to hurt her before he let her eat. Usually he would be on top of her by now. Usually Chara would've taken over and Frisk could rest. But he was stalling, and what for? 

 

“I'M NOT..” He lowered his voice. “I'm not going to do it today...or anyday for that matter. Not anymore. I have decided to turn over a new leaf, Human. Do you understand what I'm telling you?” He asked as he squat down to talk to her. If he was directly in front of her, they wouldn't  even be close to eye level, but from a distance he only needed to lower his head a little in order to read Frisk.

 

She was full of fear. What he said sounded like a foreign language. She shivered as she buried her head in her shaking knees. 

 

“Paps” sighed.

 

“What I'm saying, dear human, is that we are no longer going to engage in sexual intercourse. You get it, don't you?” He slowly crawled towards her. Frisk didn't raise her head. She didn't respond to him. She simply snuffled into her bare skin. “Sex… I will no longer demand that from you. I know this is a lot for your simple human brain to comprehend, but this is a  _ good _ thing,” 

 

He gently placed his large bony hand on her shoulder. Softly rubbing in a soothing manner. She didn't like that. She didn't like that at all. Frisked jumped as she tried to get away from him. Her eyes went bloodshot as he got closer.   “Nahh...n-no...no” she screamed out, trying to push his hand away. He was going to hurt her again. He was going to hurt her and she wasn't prepared. She thought she was but she wasn't. “Ch-chara….chara” Her tone picked up more volume. She couldn't handle this, she didn't want to handle this. It was bad and she was getting tired. Very tired. Chara needed to take over. She was tougher than Frisk. It wouldn't hurt her as much. 

 

“Human, please calm down. I told you already-” 

 

Frisk couldn't contain herself, her bladder failed, and a stream of urine trickled down her inner thighs. Standing in puddle of her filth, she sobbed from her terror and embarrassment. 

 

He seemed mesmerized. Completely fixated on her lower half.  Frisk shifted in place as she tried to cover her crying face. 

 

In a moments notice, he dropped the tray and swiftly lifted her large sweater over her head, exposing her naked flesh. It took every bone in his body not to stare to hard at the bruises. Not to focus on the mural of black and blue splatter around her skin. 

 

_ Not to get aroused. _

  
  


Frisk braced herself for his dreadful cold touch. She knew he could not resist touching her. Hurting her again. She's been through this so many times, yet she couldn't get used to it. 

 

Sans was wrong, and so was her sister for just leaving Frisk home alone and scared. For forcing Frisk to go out searching for her. If her sister didn't disappear, didn't runaway, maybe Frisk would be home. Sitting on the couch watching movies all night as mommy sat next to her on the phone. Her mother always loved to chat with her friends, and spent a lot of time gossiping back and forth. But Frisk enjoyed that. She enjoyed feeling her mother's voice vibrate throughout her body as she laid her head on her soft lap. She loved listening to their nonsensical conversation as her mother would laugh or gasp or get heated from whatever remark was made on the other line. When she got off they would sit and watch cartoons until midnight. Usually falling asleep on the couch.

 

Her mother would then spend the morning making horribly burnt waffles, since she wasn't the greatest of cooks. But they would mask the taste by adding a mountain of maple syrup and chocolate chips. If it was a school day her mother would rush to get herself, her sister, and Frisk dressed before dashing off to the bus stop. All the while playing a game of  _ i-spy  _ and making faces at her usually grumpy sister.

 

“Such a childish woman, she is,” Her grandmother would always complain whenever she came over. He mother  _ was _ a little childish, but she was also very young. Too young to have two children, especially the ages of 13 and 11. But her mother still tried, and Frisk knew she loved her and her sister with all her heart. 

 

And now Frisk missed her very much, and she wanted nothing more than to return home. She just wanted life to go back to the way it was before. Without the monsters, without the magic, without the pain. 

  
  
  


The skeleton lifted her up and hung her over his shoulder. He then did something Frisk never thought him capable, he undid the magic on the chain. It released its hold on her neck as it collapsed onto the wooden floor. 

 

For was first time in a long time, he carried her out of the cell. Slowly opening the tiny door from which he came and leading her through the closet into his bedroom. It was the first time she saw anything behind the wall that separated her from the rest of the house. 

 

She wiped her eyes as she gazed upon the large tidy room. The bed was in one corner, and a desk and dresser in the next. There was a lot of papers tucked away in small spaces or stacked on his nightstand. A huge mirror on the wall gave her a quick opportunity to glance at her horrible state, and to fully realize how high up she was from the ground. 

 

She looked at the skeleton. She got a really good look at him this time. She could see every detail now since the room was brightly lit from his open window. 

 

He was tall, she knew this much already, but unlike the other monster, he had an elegant look to him. Nice suit, bright polished bones, but a very scary face. Or scary in the sense that he didn't have the teeth you would expect on a human skeleton, instead they were razor sharp daggers. Nice, white and straight and not slightly crooked like those found in Sans’ jaws, but still daggers nonetheless. And then there were his narrow eyes that were barely filled with light as they searched around the room. Red smoke gracefully floating towards the atmosphere, as a deep scar settled on his brow bone. 

 

“WELL HUMAN, WE BETTER GET YOU CLEANED UP. I WOULDN'T WANT YOU STINKING UP MY HOUSE,” 

 

He then walked out the room and towards the stairs. Frisk never imagined she would ever get to see the rest of the house. She never imagined ever leaving the cell. Ever getting “fresh” air.

 

Gaping at every little detail that passed her by, Frisk was surprised to see how dirty the place was. Especially compared to the room she was just in. 

 

The little girl’s body bobbed with each step Papyrus took. They were moving far too quickly. Frisk was going to throw up. She couldn't take this. It was making her far too dizzy.

 

_ Why did he have to carry her? _

 

It didn't take long for them to reach the bathroom. Papyrus slowly dropped her as he started the water in the tub. 

 

“HAVE YOU EVER TAKEN A BATH BEFORE, HUMAN?”

 

“I think the kid's named Frisk,” 

 

They both jumped from the sudden voice and turned towards the door. Sans stood leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, eyes closed and that neverending grin on his face. 

 

“Frisk?.. Frisk. UH, IS THAT TRUE, HUMAN?” 

 

Frisk held herself. She didn't know whether to backup or move forward. Who was worse? Sans, who Chara repeatedly told her to watch out for, or this “Paps”. The tall one seemed like the obvious answer, but she didn't know what Sans was capable of. Frisk felt like a corned animal. It was best if she didn't move a muscle.

 

Frisk faintly nodded. 

 

“THEN FROM THIS MOMENT ONWARD I SHALL REFER TO YOU AS SUCH. HUMAN FRISK,” 

 

“Nah Paps, you ain't gotta add the ‘human’ with it. Just call her Frisk,”

 

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING BACK TO SLEEP. WHY ARE YOU DOWN HERE BOTHERING US? GO DO THAT USELESS SHIT YOU USUALLY DO,” 

 

“Language, we have a kid in front of us,” Sans opened his eye sockets as he cocked his head back. Turning the water off, “Paps” scoffed. 

 

“DON'T FUCKING TAUNT ME. I WON'T HESITATE TO PUNCH YOU LIKE I DID LAST TIME,” 

 

Papyrus’ face was back to that cold express Frisk grew to hate. She was becoming more and more uncomfortable as they argued. She just really hoped the taller skeleton’s brewing rage wouldn't be directed towards her. 

“Hey chill, bro. I only came down here cause you wanted me to wash up, remember?” 

 

“Paps” looked at the other skeleton from the corner of his eye before sighing. He poured a bottle of bubble bath into the water before mixing it up with his hand. 

 

“WELL SANS, THE BATHROOM IS OBVIOUSLY OCCUPIED-”

 

“Yeah I guess you're right. Think I'll just make the three of us breakfast while your at it then,” Sans turned to walk off when “Paps” stopped him.

 

“NO WAIT! YOU KNOW THE RULES, ONLY  _ I _ COOK. YOU SHOULD WORK ON CLEANING UP THE MESS YOU CAUSED YESTERDAY,”

 

“I’d love to do that for you, Paps, but I don't think I can do anything on an empty stomach.”

 

“YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A STOMACH!”

 

“Yeah but my energy is still so low,” Sans groaned as he held his bony palm to his forehead. Stumbling a bit like he was about to faint. “I haven't eaten in forever...I...I don't think I can make it,” He then grabbed at his chest as he slid down to the bathroom floor. 

 

Frustrated, “Paps” gave in. “FINE! I'LL GET BREAKFAST STARTED, BUT DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE THIS ON YOUR OWN, HU-- ER FRISK?” He asked the girl.

 

Having zoned out again, she just nervously stood there. Not registering what he said. “Paps” waited for a bit before angrily growling. He was going to ask her again when Sans intervened. 

 

“I’m sure humans bathe regularly since that skin of theirs tends to get dirty pretty quick. Frisk probably took more baths in a month than I've taken in a lifetime,” Sans got up as he chuckled.

 

“I DON'T SEE HOW YOU COULD EVER FIND YOUR TRIFLING BEHAVIOR FUNNY,”  Papyrus said in a snobbish manner before throwing his arms in the air as he stormed off to the kitchen. 

 

Frisk snapped out of her trance the moment the large skeleton passed her by. She was surprised he left her alone with no chain holding her down. 

 

_ Finally _ .

 

Studying the bathroom window, she could hear Chara talking to her. Was this their chance? She just needed some clothes and enough time to squeeze through that tight space that lead to world outside, and make a run for it. She could do it. Chara knew she could. 

 

They were going to be free soon. They were going to be happy.

 

Scanning the room for something to wear, her soul nearly fell out of her chest the moment her eyes met with Sans’. She hadn't realized he was still there. 

 

“You gonna get in the tub or what, kid?” 

 

Before Frisk could react, her eyes turned a deep scarlet.

 

_ Chara took over. _

 

“Y-yes… I was just waiting for some privacy,” She said apprehensively. There was a time Chara wouldn't have been so nice when talking to the “trash bag”. A time she might've cursed him out before grabbing the sharpest object in the room and stabbing him with it. But Chara learned from her mistakes. She knew if she did that, even if she succeeded in killing Sans, she was way too weak to take on his brother. Maybe in a different timeline, but not in this one. 

 

She would be completely obliterated before being shoved back to her latest SAVE, which was after she left the ruins. It would be an absolute nightmare to be forced to go through the past 6 months over again. She didn't think she could do it. 

 

She'd probably kill Frisk over and over again in hopes of being booted to a different timeline with a different SAVE, where the monsters weren't sexual predators. 

  
  


So Chara needed to be strategic, for Frisk’s sake. Sans remembered her. He remembered her well. And she remembered him, but Frisk knew nothing. She shouldn't have to suffer because of her actions in the past.

 

“Why? your naked now, ain't like there's anything else I haven't seen before,” His grin freakishly grew. She kept her back to him. 

 

“D-don't you find me disgusting….repulsive?” 

 

“Such a big word for an otherwise retarded kid. Hey! I thought you were a mute...Frisk,” he focused on her. 

 

Was she already found out? Chara couldn't remember if she personally ever interacted with Sans. There was a big chance she had, and there was a chance he remembered her. This was just great.

 

_ Absolutely perfect. _

 

“I don't want any trouble,” she trembled.

 

Why was he being so mean? Her last timeline wasn't even that bad. In fact, she didn't kill anyone. Frisk was nice, very nice, and she even made a few friends. Not with the “trash bag”, though. She tried several times, and each moment she approached him, he would brush her off, tell her to get lost, or threaten to kill her. She got over it quickly, but Chara could never shake the feeling of constantly being watched. 

 

That timeline was pretty decent, nonetheless. Too bad it ended in Frisk drowning in freezing cold water. 

 

“Didn't say I was lookin’ to start any trouble,” Sans shut the bathroom door behind him, crossed his arms, and tilted his head. 

 

“...please don't hurt me...I'll scream,” she said in an attempt to make him reconsider his next decision. He didn't want to look bad in the eyes of his younger brother, right? But she could sense that he probably didn't care.

 

Sans broke out into loud echoing laughter. He held his sides as he nearly fell down from the sheer amusement. 

 

Chara’s eyes watered. She wasn't trying to be funny and she didn't like him mocking her. 

 

“You'll scream? Hahaha… And then what? If I'm not mistaken wasn't it Papyrus that's been raping you all these months... What… You think he'll bust in here and decide ‘rescue’ you instead?”

 

“Just leave me alone!” Chara screamed. She balled her fists to her side as she began to whine in distress.

 

Sans wiped a tear from his socket as his laughing died down. 

 

He was so horrible. But who was she kidding, “Papyrus” probably wouldn't do anything. He did seem like the territorial type, though. Maybe he would get upset if someone touched something that was “his”. 

 

“Just get in the tub, kid. It's not like that little escape plan of yours will get you far. Not when you have that fucking collar around your neck.”  

 

He then turned and stood awkwardly. Chara was waiting for him to say something else, to do something else, when suddenly he yelled in agony.

 

“Goddamnit! No magic. Right.” He then turned the door knob, walked out, and left Chara alone to her own devices. 

 

She ran her fingers through the material nearly choking her. This collar was more than likely locked by magic, just like that chain on the wall, so the only way to get it off would be to use magic. She obviously didn't have magic of her own, but maybe if she could somehow convince Sans-

 

No. He wouldn't do it. He wasn't trying to help her, he just wanted to make her life more miserable. She would have to figure out a way round this, and it was better off if Frisk didn't know. The other girl did have a tendency to zone out at the most inconvenient of times. Not to mention if she was pressured enough, she would easily give everything away. They can't risk it. Especially with Sans on their tail. 

 

Sans. What a total trash bag.

 

And what did he just say?  _ No magic?  _ Hmm very interesting.

 

Chara slowly rubbed her belly as she went into deep thought. She knew she could outsmart the two of them, all she needed was an opening. Now wouldn't be the time, but if she played her cards right, Frisk and her would be out of there sooner rather than later. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Bottles & Bottles of Depression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just now realizing how shitty Sans is...

Father always did love Sans more. He loved everything about Sans. He loved his magic, his intelligence, his total obedience. He wasn't a big bumbling idiot like Papyrus. 

 

_ A mistake _ .

 

A huge regret and a waste of Father’s precious bone marrow. “What can I possibly do with you?” He barked, mainly upset with the heavy pressure he was getting from their King to make a perfect “product”, and the aching in his barely healed and hollow palms. 

 

“It's been six years. Six years of my life wasted on trying to get you to do anything! Anything besides mumble about like an utter imbecile.  You can't read, you can't speak, you can't even perform the simplest of tasks. I should've terminated you once I had the chance,” 

 

Papyrus didn't want to believe the hurtful things father told him on a daily basis. He wanted father to love him. To love him just as much as he loved Sans. So Papyrus tried his best to make Father happy. He did whatever Father told him, he made sure never to leave a mess and to always clean up after himself if he ever did. 

 

He even eventually spoke. 

 

He said his first few words right in front of the scientist in hopes Father would be proud of him, but he wasn't.

 

Papyrus could never be as good as Sans. He never did anything right. Never. No matter how hard he tried. 

 

_ “That's why you deserve it,”  _

 

Sans once said, as Papyrus cried into his pillow one night, holding his sore cheek. “You're helping father out by making him feel good. It's the very least you could do, now all you gotta do is stop screaming and acting up when he's inside you and you'll be perfect...” 

 

Those words weren't very encouraging. It only hurt Papyrus more. Why couldn't Father love him? Why couldn't he be treated like Sans? Why was he the only one in constant pain? The only one left to suffer?

  
  


He did  _ nothing _ to deserve any of it. He didn't deserve to be roughly stripped naked and completely humiliated. He didn't deserve to be pushed down so harshly by Father, while his brother simply watched with gleeful curiosity rather than contempt. He didn't deserve Father to violate him, force him to conjure up the little magic he had in order to make a “pleasure hole”. So papyrus found it very much appropriate to headbut father when he couldn't contain himself and the pain became too overbearing. 

  
  


Papyrus found it appropriate. Father did not. Sans simply found it funny when his Father's large fist met his little brother's face. 

 

“...well, somewhat perfect.”

  
  
  


{~}

 

Papyrus sat three separate plates down on the dining room table. He sighed as he observed his broken surrounds. Man, it was a very bad idea to take all his anger out on the furniture. He really needed to devote the rest of the morning on fixing the place up, or at least to standing and dictating as Sans did it for him. 

 

It was horrible that he needed to monitor his older brother in order to make sure things were done right. Quite pathetic on Sans part.

 

He ran back into the kitchen to grab the stack of pancakes from the counter.  _ Pancakes _ , what an odd choice. He's only ever made the dish on a few rare occasions. They weren't really a cuisine he was too fond of, but he heard somewhere that children loved sugary food and making sweet spaghetti again was out of the equation.  

 

Hopefully pancakes were supposed to be a little crispy. Or a lot crispy since he had the stove’s heat on too high and waited too long to flip a few of them.

 

Okay, so they burnt. He'll admit.

 

This was a special occasion, though. Very special because for the first time ever he was going to apologize and actually attempt to change his life around. Be the best man he could be, and that needed to start that day.

 

If children enjoyed pancake,  and Frisk was a child, then she should be grateful for his kind gesture. He was being kind after all. So kind he could practically feel the rainbows and butterflies radiating off of him. 

 

_ Whatever that meant. _

 

He guessed he was aiming to be anything other than a violent predator, someone who didn't automatically strike fear in people's hearts just by a simple glance. Maybe he can be a nice guy on top of that. A gentleman who put other's thoughts before his own. They were practically synonyms he was sure. But maybe on the other hand,

 

Papyrus was going a little overboard.

 

He didn't  _ really _ need to improve for anyone besides his brother and the human. No one else mattered. Not really anyway.

 

He placed the fresh flipped dish on the wooden surface of the table along with a bottle of syrup. Just as he was adjusting the leg of his chair, Sans walked in. His signature bad posture casting a shadow over the mess on the floor. It was obvious he hadn't done laundry in a while since his shirt was stained and torn. Yawning loudly, his brother cracked his bare bony toes before scraping them along the floorboards.

 

It had been 30 minutes since Papyrus ran out the bathroom to get breakfast started, what was Sans doing that whole time? 

 

There was a possibility he just simply went back up to his room, but Papyrus would've heard the creak of their bottom step if Sans had in fact approached the stairs. He couldn't teleport anymore, so maybe he was getting started on the living room, or feeding the damn cat for once, or taking a power nap. The possibilities were endless, and why did he even care?

 

It was horrible how he would intentionally look too deep into things. Or maybe he wasn't looking deep enough?

 

That didn't matter. It didn't matter since he was the bad guy in this situation. Not Sans. No matter how shitty his attitude could be or how awful his laziness could get. Sans wasn't the savage demon in this case, therefore admittingly, his brother was more of a saint than Papyrus could ever care to fathom. 

 

_ That was just plain dreadful. _

 

“IS HUMAN FRISK DONE WITH HER SHOWER?” He sternly asked. Studying his brother as Sans oddly began to slightly twitch. It took Sans a minute, a very long minute, to acknowledge him. He was staring into oblivion, now. Itching at the hollow space that used to be occupied by his missing rib bones. Papyrus feared he was going into another episode, or was it a “trip”?

 

What was it that happened to addicts while they are experiencing a withdrawal again? Was it even a withdrawal, or was Sans so lazy, he slept even when he was awake.

 

The drugs he took were strange, and the slender skeleton would be lying if he claimed to know exactly what they were. What horrors they consisted of. White powder? Greyish-white powder. Greyish-white powder that smelt of death. Of death and decay. Of  _ dust _ .

 

Sans eye sockets went black before he finally responded.

 

“Uhh..yeah. I’m sure she is, but wow! I’m impressed you made something that wasn’t pasta related for once,” He snickered before dusting broken glass off the table with his bare hands, and taking a seat. 

 

The way he said it felt all wrong, like he wasn't sarcastic in his usual mocking tone. It was more like he was forcing himself to say it. Forcing himself to say something, anything. Maybe so Papyrus wouldn't complain about being ignored, or maybe to hide more of those foggy feelings that were building up deep inside. Those feelings that nearly toppled over. Feelings desperate to pour out, to flow free like lava from a volcano. And maybe, just maybe Sans was about to erupt. Not in the sense that Papyrus had the previous day, but in a way that was far more tragic. Far more deadly, but only deadly for him. Because Papyrus didn't understand it completely, but he knew his brother was essentially alone.  _ Alone in what way? _ He supposed it was up to him to somehow find out.

 

It was a result of Papyrus’ actions he was sure. Everything was a result of his actions, and it was due time he owned up to that.

 

Therefore, Papyrus knew the right thing to do would probably be to confront his brother about his current problems, maybe come at it with a better approach than whatever that was he did that morning. He really needed to stop getting upset over little things. Not that what Sans said was a “little” thing, but it was obvious he was trying to get under his skin..

 

..erm..bones.

 

He knew Sans didn't mean what he said. Why would he enjoy such a disgusting act? Why would anyone? People like that need to be exterminated. Wiped off the face of the earth, never to be seen again. They didn't deserve life. They were total filthy scum.

 

_ Total scum... _

 

Odd. The more he thought about it, the more of a hypocrite he was beginning to be. Who was Papyrus to judge, of all people. At least his brother could use the excuse of simply “joking”. What excuse did he have? 

 

He bit his non-existent tongue and ran his hand against the top of his skull. Saying something now would just be awkward. He shouldn't confront Sans. He shouldn't attempt to shame anyone but himself. Now was not the time to be such a dummy. He was so stupid.

 

_ So stupid, so stupid, so stupid. _

 

So he didn’t focus on his brother. The human was probably having trouble on her own. It would be up to him to make sure she was okay,  as funny as that may sound.

 

Setting the utensils down and wiping his hands on his bottoms, Papyrus sighed. 

 

“WELL, I’LL BE RIGHT BACK. TRY NOT TO EAT WITHOUT US-”

 

“Where you going? I mean whatever it is you need done... I can do it for you,” Sans quickly interjected as he got to his feet. He was suddenly so lively. He had more energy in that one thrust upward than Papyrus could ever recall seeing in him since, maybe, early teenagehood. 

 

“NO THAT IS OKAY, BROTHER. I CAN HANDLE IT MYSELF,” 

 

“Then I’ll join you. It’s no fun sitting here by myself,” He said, as if he wasn't so sure about that statement. Like he was confused about more than just the words leaving his mouth. As if he was suddenly baffalled with his surroundings, his actions, with what he was feeling, with his perception of life. 

 

“I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO BE LEFT ALONE.” Papyrus said while crossing his arms in slight defiance. Sans slowly dug his nails deeper into his rib cage through his white t-shirt. His gaze seeming to lock on to the wall behind Papyrus.

 

 “DO YOU NOT LIKE ME BEING ALONE WITH HER? IS THAT IT?”

 

Why did he say that? Why was he so upset with such a realization? No it was an assumption. Sans never mentioned anything about her, He hadn’t brought her up since that morning. His brother was probably genuine. Maybe he didn't want to be left here at the mercy of his drug induced mind. He wasn't in a good condition, not by a long shot, and maybe just maybe…

 

_ Maybe _ he would try again. There was a knife laying on the table staring his brother dead in the eyes. If Papyrus listened closely enough he could hear the weapon's faint whisper pleading with Sans to let it’s blade meet his heart. 

 

This made sense. Much more sense. Sans was suicidal, therefore Sans didn't want to be alone. Right? It had nothing to do with him. Nothing to do with Papyrus’ actions.

 

 A faint red glow returned to Sans skull. 

 

“Didn’t know you could read minds, Paps.”

  
  


{~}

  
  


Papyrus stuffed a fork full of pancakes down his throat. Doomfanger gently laid balled up on his lap, purring as a request for affection. He slowly stroked the feline’s spine as he tried not to look nervous. 

 

Frisk sat opposite to him. Sans sat to his right. Both were occupied in their meal, or at least they both attempted to come off as such. Frisk was taking tiny bits every minute and a half, and Sans was simply toying with the mush that once resembled a solid plate of food. No one said a word. The room was completely silent, and this drove Papyrus crazy.

 

_ His pancakes couldn't be that bad, could they? _

 

He cleared his throat, wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin, and broke the white noise. 

 

“SO, I HAVE SOMETHING VERY IMPORTANT I MUST TELL YOU TWO,” He started, locking his hands together as he rested his sharp chin on his firm knuckles. Both Sans and Frisk paused to look up at him. Both wide-eyed and confused.

 

Papyrus sat quietly for a moment. Quietly as he stared at his twitching brother, who tried very hard to hide his spazzing limbs but it was too obvious by the way the table vibrated around him, and the pregnant child. He didn't know what to say to them. 

 

All he's done in such a short period of time. It was horrible. He was horrible. But he needed to make things right, so once again, he broke the silence.

 

“I know things have been really bad lately, but I'm going to do better. The three of us,” he lowered his voice as he watched the inflated belly of the little girl slowly rise and fall, over and over again, in her oversized sweater.

 

“..four of us… are all we got. We gotta make it work. No matter what,” 

 

There was no response from the two. No movement was made as the room went still. It was so quiet, Papyrus could've swore he heard the chattering of two mice hidden under the floorboards.

 

Doomfanger stretched and jumped down from her master's lap. She yawned before disappearing beyond the kitchen’s window. 

 

The tall skeleton watched as she left, feeling a bit disappointed that he was now alone to deal with this himself. Not that Doomfanger made much of a difference, but she stood to be the only one that wasn't affected by his sinful actions, and thus, still loved him more than life itself.

 

Tapping his claws against the table, Papyrus waited for something,  _ anything _ , to happen. For Sans to crack a joke, or for the human to break down in tears, or for them to simply acknowledge what he just said. To have some reaction, anything besides blank stares. 

 

_ This was ridiculous. _

 

“...you have anymore pancakes?” his brother finally said moments later with a dead, dull tone. A tone that was far too foreign for the usually quick witted snarky skeleton. He was easily a person who could laugh at his misfortune. Easily a person who could brush off  life’s wrong doings. But now he wasn't smiling, he wasn't quoting some half-hearted pun to lighten the mood, and his twitching got worse. 

 

Sans glared in the direction of his face, not quite making his eyes, and not quite ready to comprehend what his brother just said. So he didn't. 

 

“No, that is it. If you want more you'll have to make it yourself,” Papyrus retorted in annoyance. He couldn't blame Sans for trying to change the subject. Maybe it was best the conversation ended there.

 

“Hey, Paps! You in there?!? I… I brought the stuff you wanted!” Suddenly a booming voice came from the front door. Everyone froze instantly as their eyes, as if in sync, shot towards the entrance of the house. The voice was very recognizable. Too recognizable.

 

_ This wasn't good. _

 

How could he forget the conversation he had last night on the phone. He was so distraught and definitely wasn't thinking clearly when he called the only monster he felt comfortable to trust with his life. She was oddly very understanding. And also compassionate? She didn't laugh at his weak sobbing like he thought she would, and in fact gave him some advice. Good advice. Undyne also offered to help, an offer in which he didn't take seriously. 

 

Papyrus honestly thought after their private conversation none of what was said would ever be brought up again. He expected her to move on with her life since none of it affected her anyways. People were selfish and they often didn't concern themselves with other people's business unless they could get something out of it. Obviously he was wrong, and obviously now she was here and ready to give up her “services”. 

 

Sans, with a narrowed glare, harshly whispered, “What the fuck is she doing here? Tell that stupid bitch to go away,” He demanded. Seemingly upset with the royal guard for a handful of unknown reasons. Reasons that probably had something to do with him being fired, or the simply fact that Undyne had a habit of beating up addicts strung out on street curbs and alleyways. 

 

Papyrus sighed. He debated whether he should just lie to her, tell her everything is fine and to just go home, or to accept her help. He didn't think he could do any of this alone, and if she was sincerely sympatic about their situation than maybe she had a really good solution for him. 

 

As he got up to answer the door, his brother tightly grabbed a hold of his wrist. “I hope you do know she'll slice the brat’s throat without second thought. I mean you do know that, right? You know her better than anyone else apparently, but maybe that's what you want all along. You want to get rid of the kid to cover up your tracks, and in that case you might as well let me do it. She'll be dead in less than a second..heh I can guarantee that,” Sans slide his tongue along the top of his teeth as he played with the tips of his fork. Grinning at Frisk as he thought about murdering her right on top of the dining room table.

  
  


Frisk instinctively held her throat and slumped down in her chair. She tried her hardest to make herself very small, trying to hide from Sans murderous intentions. He loved it, and she knew he loved it. He was simply eating up the smell of her fear, and it made her feel horrible and scared.

 

“DON'T BE RIDICULOUS, SANS. I CAN HANDLE THIS. I HONESTLY DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE SO AFRAID OF,” Papyrus said as he pulled his arm free and snatched the fork from his older brother's grip. 

 

Sans watched in fury as Papyrus disappeared in the hallway. He meant every word, if it came down to it he wouldn't hesitate to kill the kid and Undyne too if she made one wrong move. Just one small fuck up, one thing said out of place, or one bad gesture, and bam! A bone straight through her skull.  

 

Well..that is if he had his magic of course.

 

Now he was nothing more than a defenseless wimp, but that meant nothing. He could easily use his fangs to tear her up like some sort of feral vampire, if he had to. It would be a bloody mess but it would also be worth it. 

  
  


{~}

  
  


Papyrus took a deep breath as he prepared to open the door. What was he going to say to her? How would he explain this all away? Didn't he want her help, so what would be the point of coming up with an excuse. He should just be casual. Yeah, just talk to her like it was another day at the job. He should just envision a whole different environment and a whole different situation. Maybe right now they're on the streets of Hotlands beating up some punks who robbed a local post. 

 

He always did manage to clear his mind when doing something excessively violent. 

 

Swinging the door open and greeting his friend with a not-too-warm smile, Papyrus nearly choked on his words.

 

“MY DEAREST FRIEND, UNDYNE! I WAS NOT EXPECTING YOU TO SHOW UP THIS EARLY, IF I'VE KNOWN I WOULD'VE MADE YOU A PLATE OF MY DELICIOUS PANCAKES FOR YOU! MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES,”  

 

She looked up at him with an unfamiliar expression on her face. Papyrus was tempted to wipe his eye sockets out of uncertainty. He wasn't sure if her cheeks were quickly turning a bright crimson from the cold air or from something completely different. Blushing was definitely something Undyne didn't do, in fact anything associated with femininity was something Undyne just didn't do. It was so out of place to see her usually tied up hair, down and gently resting on her shoulders. To not see her in bulky armor, but rather a tightly fitted dress that seemed to emphasize her surprisingly nice figure. He noticed how pretty her face suddenly was, how her lips were plump and how her snake-like eyes sparkled in the sunlight. 

 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” She shyly asked. Shyly? Undyne shy? This was completely out of her character, and to think that he never noticed any of this before. Never noticed that she was a female, or at least didn’t know she would ever have it in her to act as such. So why suddenly was she looking so...girly? 

 

“AHH..UH I APOLOGIZE AGAIN. YOU MUST BE CHILLY STANDING OUT IN THE COLD. YOU SHOULD COME IN,” Papyrus held his arm out towards the inside of the house. 

 

“Finally! I was freezing my ass off in this horrible weather,” She lightly punched Papyrus’ shoulder as she walked past him. 

 

“I'M SORRY THE PLACE IS SUCH A MESS. SANS DIDN'T GET ANYTIME TO CLEAN UP AFTER HIMSELF,”  He said as he quickly tried to organize a pile of scattered papers on the end table near the entrance. He was suddenly more nervous than he was before he opened the door. 

 

“Stop apologizing. My apartment is a thousand times more dirty than this, so I really don't care.” She laughed as she stepped over a garbage bag. Papyrus wasn't so sure how he felt about that. This place was a pigsty, so what kind of nightmare of an environment was she leaving in?

 

“Great, you let the slut in.” Sans spitfully said as he tilted his head to study the tips of his phalanges. “Love the look by the way, babe.” He blew kiss at Undyne as she turned to see him standing by the door. Expecting her to react negatively, Sans was shocked when her smile grew wider as she tucked a few strands of hair behind her left ear. 

 

“Sans! How ya feeling? I'm happy to see you didn't dust overnight. You would've left a distraught Papyrus for me to have to take care of, and that would’ve sucked major balls,” 

 

She was genuinely happy to see the skeleton somewhat competent and okay. The more the years passed, the worst the Underground got. It was unfortunate that she’s experienced more drug overdoses in this year alone than any other year of her life. Even though her relationship with Sans was definitely not the best, she would hate to see him gone.

 

“Heh!” Sans chuckled. “Why am I not surprised! Of course Paps went snitching to you, but uh since you're here you might as well make yourself fucking useful and force him to take this damn collar off my goddamn neck-” He tagged at the leather collar, trying to break free from it.

 

“SANS PLEASE WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE, AND THAT IS NO WAY TO SPEAK TO A SUPERIOR OFFICER,”

 

Sans scoffed as he rolled his eyelights. “Yeah okay ‘boss’. When have  _ you _ ever given a shit about anyone but yourself?”

 

“Well he gave a shit about you, I think that says a lot,” Undyne interjected, not seeming phased by anything Sans previously stated. 

 

She still smiled at him, and this upset Sans even more. Who did she think she was just coming in here and claiming shit she didn't know? Papyrus didn't care about anyone. He was the most self-centered, egotistical, narcissistic bastard in the Underground. He was horrible yet Sans was still so attracted to him. Attracted to his own little brother. He was starting to feel gross again and it was all Undyne’s fault.

 

Clenching his fists and storming towards the fish, he shoved a clawed bony finger in her face. Spitting profusely as he tried to tell her off. “Listen, bitch!” He spat.

“I need you to mind your own fucking business before I rip your tongue out and shove it up your scaly ass!” 

 

“Sans,” Papyrus started, practically whispering, which was enough to catch his brother's attention. “..that's enough. Now why don't you get started on that livingroom,” Just by the tone of his brother’s voice, the skeleton knew he meant business.

 

Sans hesitantly retrieved his hand from Undyne’s face and stuffed them in his short’s pockets. He hated how he had to obey Papyrus’ stupid command. He hated how his brother had so much control over him because of the collar. If Sans could just think straight he would've figured out a way to take advantage of his brother's growing passivity, but it might be too late now. Maybe. Maybe he could somehow convince the idiot to set him free. 

 

Backing away from the still smiling fish, Sans snorted before leaving the room. He didn’t disappear from earshot, though, and tried to listen in.

 

The halls filled with silence, before Undyne took a few steps closer towards Papyrus.

 

“S-so..uh...what you told me yesterday, you know, about your..dad..um was it true?” She asked as she kept eye contact with the floor. Obviously she was a little uncomfortable with the question. But so was Papyrus. He was both uncomfortable and confused. Did he tell her about father last night? How did he not remember any of that? What else did he say to her? 

 

“What did I tell you exactly?” He kept his voice low, not sure what to expect from her response, and not wanting Sans to hear. 

 

“Well just how shitty you had it growing up..and I told you I could relate...but if you forgot all of that I guess there is no point in pursuing this conversation,” She looked a bit disappointed. Undyne could relate to him? In what possible way could she ever relate to him? He was growing curious. 

 

“I-” 

 

Suddenly Frisk fell out of the coat closet and landed between the two of them. She rubbed her head to ease the pain and hadn't realized who she was standing before until,

 

“A human! Oh my god! Grab it, I'll kill it!” Undyne yelled as she readied her magic and aimed it at frisk’s head. 

 

It took Papyrus half a second to react. How did she get in the closet? Wasn’t she in the dining room when he left to answer the door? Obviously this was Sans doing, but if he was trying to hide the human, there were a million better places throughout the house than the fucking coat closet.

 

_ Was this intentional?  _

 

“WAIT YOU CAN'T DO THAT!” Papyrus jumped in front of the shaking girl, blocking Undyne’s spear from Frisk’s forehead.

 

‘What do you mean, Paps? Of course I have to...why are you protecting her? Move out of the fucking way!” Undyne screamed as she tried to get around him. 

 

“I told you can’t do that, just drop the weapon and let’s talk about this,” He didn’t want to think about hurting his friend, but he was prepared to do it if Undyne didn’t listen. Hopefully if they did start fighting, Papyrus wouldn't be forced to kill her. But he knew her better than that. Undyne was as stubborn as a mule, and wouldn’t hesitate to risk her life to keep her position as a royal guard. Finding a human and not harvesting its soul for the greater good of the Underground was punishable by death, and they both knew that. 

 

He didn’t want to hurt her, but he would. Without second thought.

 

“God, this is gold! Of course he won’t let you kill the little vermin, she’s carrying his baby,” Sans laughed as he held his phone up to record the event. He gleefully found pleasure in finally wiping that stupid grin off the fish’s face. 

 

Undyne looked shocked. She took a good look at the small human and instantly all the strength in legs disappeared. The human was curled up behind Papyrus’ back, slightly cleaving onto the fabric of his shirt, as she held her eyes shut. Undyne could barely make out the silhouette of her body, but she could tell something was off about her. Something that wasn’t found on the other humans that fell down. Something out of place.

 

She fell to her knees as her magic evaporated in thin air. She couldn’t move her eyes from the child’s stomach. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, and she wasn’t disgusted with what Sans said, she was more disgusted with the fact that it was Papyrus. 

 

How could Papyrus do that? How could he do that to her? The monster that stood by his side through thick and thin. This was betrayal, he threw everything away. Everything they had been building on all these years. He betrayed her. He betrayed their friendship, and now suddenly her world was coming crashing down.  Why would he do that?

 

_ Why? Why? Why? _

 

Undyne wasn’t angry, she didn’t even know if she was sad. She couldn’t describe her feelings. She didn’t understand how she felt about him for a long time, but when he called her last night it was almost like she knew. Like a light bulb came on in her head. Instantly her emotions were starting to make sense. 

 

“He’s lying..right, Paps?” She desperately asked as her eyes started to water. This was starting to become very embarrassing, but she needed to know. She needed him to tell her Sans was simply pulling her leg and this human, this kid, wasn’t swollen from his doing. She needed to know that Papyrus, her Papyrus, wasn’t capable of touching any other living being that wasn’t her. Yesterday he revealed that they were one in the same, two broken people who needed each other. So she was willing to be there for him just as long as he felt the same way. Just as long as they could cry together and be happy in each other's company, because no other monster made her feel the way Papyrus did. No other monster understood her.

 

_ But he did. _

 

Papyrus hung his head as he tried to avoid looking her in her face. “Unfortunately not.” He said, and suddenly Undyne couldn’t control her tears. They poured out of her eyes like a flooded dam as she sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed. She cried into her palms as she tried to stop the snot from running, but it was no use as the liquid was just getting smudge all over her face. This was the first time in a long time she felt this way. The first time she wanted nothing more than to accept death’s embrace. 

 

Papyrus sat frozen in place. Now fully understanding the scope of what he did. He hurt more people than he intended, and he didn’t know why. Why did he do it? Why was he like this? Who could he possibly blame? He needed a way out. He desperately needed a way to get rid of this overbearing guilt. But there was none. 

 

Looking at the mess in front of him, Sans held his side as he fell back in laughter.. “Good going, bro. You  _ perfectly _ managed to fuck over another chick, “

 

Suddenly Papyrus was reminded of something horrible from his past, and found it hard to breath.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Bottles & Bottles of Defiance

**(**)**

Sans held his erection in his hand as he laid his right ear cavity to the wall. He could hear his brother going at it. Really giving that shit of a human a good fucking. On a normal occasion Sans would have easily been disgusted with the thought of the anomaly touching his little brother, but this wasn’t a normal occasion.

 

Papyrus, even with his big brutish appearance, knew little to nothing about sex. It was both cute and hilarious to see him struggle to understand Sans’ punny innuendos, or once looked both shocked and confused when a local prostitute offered a blow job for 20G, in which he replied with “MA’AM, UNFORTUNATELY I WILL HAVE TO DECLINE SEEING THAT I ALREADY HAVE A JOB,”.

 

‘How could a monster get anymore stupid?’ Sans once thought, but he knew that was what he loved about his brother. His sexual innocence. That dumb naivety that always seemed to stay with him no matter what stage of life he was in. Papyrus always did have a habit of asking questions. Questions about everything, but never about sex. As if he couldn’t conceive such an act could occur. Sans found that hard to believe. He was convinced that Papyrus choose to be purposely ignorant. His brother always was such a killjoy, and probably found it too pleasurable to waste his time doing.

 

But now here his little brother was grunting and moaning from each thrust into that gross little girl’s body. He could hear the springs of the mattress squeak with each powerful momentum.  It was like music to his ears. Stroking his dick profusely, Sans bit his tongue in order to not make too much noise.

 

Sickly enough, Sans imagined himself underneath his brother’s tall lengthy body. He wanted to know what his shaft felt like inside of his anus. He wanted Papyrus to hold him down and gently nibble on his neck. He wanted desperately to be fucked like a cheap whore and filled with his brother’s sweet juices. He didn’t want his brother to stop as he sang his name. He wanted-

 

Sans’ masterbating was interrupted by the kid’s loud whimpering. He could barely make out an, “ahnn..p-please….it hurts,”  as he listened more closely.

 

How disappointing to have her filthy voice inside his perfect little fantasy. If his brother had even half a brain he would first smash the rat’s head in then get back to smashing her insides to mince meat. Sans would definitely do. He would do it in a heartbeat with no regrets. Besides, it was only a matter of time before she turned on them all, and went on her usual killing spree. He’s been down this path too many times that it was now  predictable. All she needed was an opening. Once given the opportunity, the anomaly would make nothing more than dust out of them all, and she would do it in less than a millisecond. 

 

The squeaking picked up pace as his brother’s breathing got louder. The blood-gurgling cries pierced through the walls, as the wet sound of flesh rubbing against flesh filled Sans head. Almost as if his hand grew a mind of its own, Sans couldn’t stop his rapid grinding. The vibrations through the walls was making his head feel all woozy. His hips buckled as he felt close.

 

“FUCK!” Papyrus barked as Sans practically felt the red fluid splatter all over the kid’s thighs and stomach. There was a brief pause, as the anomaly's hiccupped sobs echoed throughout the house. Sans tried to catch his breath as he found he was suddenly shaking. He sat there waiting, not sure what he was waiting for. There wasn’t any noise for a while, even the anomaly’s crying stopped. Sans meant to get up until he heard the squeaking start up again. 

**(**)**

 

Looking down at his hands, Sans was disgusted to see them covered in his own cum. 

 

{~}

  
  


“Well! Here’s the pills,“ Undyne extended her hand towards Papyrus, dropping the bottle in his large palms. He took it and examined the label-less orange container. 

 

“So, what are they exactly?” He curiously asked, still not confident enough to believe she wasn't trying to poison Sans.  

 

“I think Alphys said it was a form of Narcan. You're either supposed to take it while he's overdosing or for the withdrawals. I’m sorry I honestly can't remember which,” The fish said as she nervously scratched the back of her neck. 

 

Great. If she didn't know exactly what they were used for, the drug was pretty much pointless. 

 

Papyrus sighed. “Well I used magic before to heal Sans, so you think that'll help again?” Undyne gazed past him, unsure. She thought for awhile before replying.

 

“I think it won't. I mean, we both know you're not a doctor, and your healing magic sucks ass. One small slip up and you can end up killing him. Just give him the pills, I’m sure they’ll work fine.” Undyne then looked at Papyrus. She took in his tall stature, his small glowing eyes, and his serene demeanor. She wanted to smack him. To punch him square in the jaw for forcing her in that docile position earlier. But she also wanted to kiss those non-existent lips so bad. Right now, standing near him, made her all tingly inside. She hated it, but she also wondered if anyone felt the same way about her.  

 

Papyrus slightly smiled when he noticed Undyne observing him. Their relationship was destined to be very awkward from now on. “I’m sorry you had to see that earlier. I would've told you...just under different circumstances,” He said while rubbing the top of his skull. 

 

Undyne looked away as she fiddled with a loose seam in her dress. “Don't apologize, Paps. I know it was all a set up, and what I saw wasn't your doing,”

 

“Undyne, that isn't-” She held her finger to his lips to silence him.

 

“Don't try to protect the real culprit. I’ll find the guy who's really responsible for this, and I'll kick his ass for framing you. You have my word,” Undyne grinned as she cracked her knuckles. 

 

Papyrus was capable of doing a lot of messed up shit, but Undyne deeply knew he wasn't capable of hurting her. Someone else had to be behind all of this. It just had to be a set up. “I'll also keep the human a secret, but only under one condition,” 

 

“What's that?” Papyrus asked, still a little shocked that his friend was being so delusional. 

 

“You have to take me on a boat ride..you know..so I can teach you how to swim and all.” She pulled more hair behind her ears as she waited for his response. Was she being too obvious? This was just too embarrassing she couldn't handle it. 

 

Undyne consider just telling him to forget it, before he landed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

 

“OF COURSE I WOULD LOVE THAT! YOU ALWAYS DID MANAGE TO LOOK OUT FOR ME, MY DEAREST FRIEND UNDYNE!” He loudly said, returning to his same old boisterous self. That annoying, yet hardworking, self she quickly grew to enjoy. Undyne felt happy with his answer. So happy that she felt a spark ignite inside of her, and whatever little hope she had before was restored. 

 

Not wanting the moment to get too cheesy, she cleared her throat and lifted Papyrus’ hand off her shoulder. “Good. Then we'll meet at Waterfall on Monday at 8am on the dot. Don't be late or I'll make you run laps.”

 

“I'LL MAKE A MENTAL NOTE,” 

 

Undyne patted him on the back before walking towards the front door. “Alright! Well I'm off. If you have anymore questions, or you just wanna talk, don't hesitate to call me,” she turned the doorknob and sighed. Swinging it open and looking back at Papyrus one last time. 

 

“OH! UNDYNE,” He quickly shouted. She stopped and turned back to face him. “Thank you.” He whispered. She felt her cheeks getting hot again as her heart melted. 

 

“Yeah, don't mention it,” and with that, the door shut and she was gone. Papyrus was left alone in the empty hallway, forced to register all of what just happened. 

  
  


{~}

  
  


“I think that bitch has the hots for ya, Paps” Sans chuckled as he held Frisk on his lap. She sat quietly while Undyne was still in the other room, but now she felt more and more uncomfortable on his cold femurs. There was no longer a reason for her to be secured on his lap, yet he refused to let her go. Frisk struggled under his grips, almost tempted to bite him in hopes it might convince him to let go. 

 

“SANS, I THINK YOU HAVE A SERIOUS PROBLEM,” Papyrus said while grabbing the back of his collar and forcing him on his feet. “DROP HER.” He commanded.

 

Sans let out a deep growl before hesitantly obeying. He released the girl, causing her to land on her behind with a loud thud. “I could've swore we went over this already. Telling me I have a problem is like saying acid will burn you alive. It's pretty obvious, little bro.” 

 

Papyrus pinched the bridge of his nasal bone in frustration. Sans’ hectic actions were really giving him a migraine. He refused to cooperate, refused to listen, refused to make any of this situation easier on anyone. It was like he got some sort of sick enjoyment from seeing people suffer. 

 

“Well it'd be great if you could take the collar off now. I got somewhere to be and I kinda need my magic for it,” Sans said as he tried to straighten up his dingy T-shirt. 

 

There was absolutely no way Papyrus would even consider removing that collar. And  _ somewhere to be _ ? That sounded very suspicious, like he was planning on leaving to get high somewhere.

 

Papyrus took in a deep breath and exhaled as he decided to just clean up the house himself. Sans was useless after all, and would most likely not do a good job, and he couldn’t stand another minute in this dirty environment. He rolled up his sleeves and picked up an open bottle of Pinesol from the coffee table. “WOULD YOU BE SO KIND TO HELP ME, HUMAN FRISK-”  

 

“Did you fucking hear me. I need to leave. _ Now _ . So take this off,” Sans pulled at the leather around his neck, trying to gain himself a little more air. Suddenly the collar felt much more suffocating than before. 

 

Papyrus rolled his eyelights before asking, “WHERE DO YOU PLAN ON GOING EXACTLY?” He was fully expecting some half-hearted excuse, and was more than prepared to quickly shoot his brother’s request down. He couldn't remember the last time Sans even considered leaving the house, so why the sudden interest? “IF YOU’RE TRYING TO GO TO SOME DUSTY BAR, YOU MIGHT AS WELL FORGET ABOUT IT.”  He quickly added. 

 

“Nope, not even close. I gotta get to work, I already missed 2 or 3 days, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to get fired again,” 

 

Papyrus nearly dropped the Pinesol when he heard the word “work” leaving his brother’s month. Who in their right mind would ever hire Sans with his shitty reputation? “AND WHERE DO YOU WORK?”

 

“Is that important? All you gotta know is I’m taking that advice of yours and I'm trying to get  back on my feet. That is what you wanted, right?” Sans said nonchalantly as he picked at his teeth. 

 

Papyrus narrowed his sockets as he glared at him. His curiosity was once again peeked, but he also began to grow angry. It was obvious this was some imaginary job he came up with on the spot.  Did Sans really think he wouldn’t notice? Did he think Papyrus was  _ that _ stupid? 

 

Noticing his brother’s growing fury, Sans retrieved his hands into his pockets, and tried to keep up his “unbothered” facade.

 

“It’s..uh.. a  job in customer service. You know, that boring shit. But anyway forget about the collar, I think I can just go with it on, heh heh” Sans nervously blurted out, as he focused on his brother’s widening sneer. “I should just get out of your way...uh I won’t be out long.” Sans paced towards the door. He kept his eyes focused forward, praying that his brother’s new blooming pacifism would allow him to leave with no issues. That, of course, wouldn’t be the case. Sans nearly made it to freedom before he was quickly pulled back into the darkness of their messy home. 

 

“SANS, YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE-” Papyrus sternly stated, dropping him on the couch, and patting him on the head like a dog. He handed Frisk a broom and grabbed a stack of cleaning rags. 

 

‘Ugh but you don’t understand, I  _ need _ to go. I promise I won’t be more than an hour, Paps, please” Sans whined. His younger brother didn't seem phased in the slightest, and instead was deliberately ignoring his childish griping. At least he wasn't angry anymore.

 

“Fine. Since you don’t give a shit about me, I’ll just have to call in sick. But keep in mind, if I lose this job its one hundred percent your fault” He said as he slowly backed in towards the bathroom. Papyrus was too occupied with explaining his instructions for the house to the anomaly, which was perfect for Sans. It gave him enough time to properly sneak away, and quietly shut the bathroom door. He double checked that it was locked behind him, before inspecting the tiny window above the tub. 

 

What Sans was planning on doing next was pretty dangerous, and he wasn't completely sure what Papyrus would do if he caught him. New look on life or not, Papyrus did not take disobedience lightly. So he did have a few ideas, mainly ones starting with his limbs being torn off or his bones burnt, but that didn't matter. If he didn't get out now and get to “work”, he could easily guarantee the inevitable withdrawal would make Papyrus’ beatings feel like mere tickles. 

 

Sans stretched his arms out before jumping on top of the toilet lid. He originally assumed his body a bit too fat to fit through the window, but then realized that he could make it if he got rid of the extra “baggage” that typically made him bigger than he actually was. He stripped down to the bare bone and grabbed a hold of the shower rod. Sans inhaled as he silently slid the window panel open, and squeezed his naked body through. It barely made it, and his illium almost got stuck on his way out. The skeleton exhaled as his feet met the snow. It chilled up his spine and gave him an extra spark of life. He was pleased and overly grateful this bathroom was located on the first floor and he wouldn't have to make that big of a jump. 

 

Laughing to himself at how clever he was for making such a successful prison break, Sans turned around and flipped the house off. He knew he didn’t have a lot of time before Papyrus realized he was gone, so he had to hurry.  _ Or maybe he didn’t. _ Now that he was out of his brother’s grips, there was no one to control him. It wasn’t like he was forced to come home. Sans was a grown man and he could do as he pleased, therefore that was exactly what he was going to do. He didn’t need magic to get high, nor did he need it to kill himself. He could do it the good ol’ fashion way, but first he needed to calm his mind before he drew his last breath.

 

Jogging naked towards Grillby’s, Sans decided he would spend the night at an old “friends” house. Seeing he had no money, he figured he could offer sex in exchange for a room and more of the “substance”. If he was lucky he might get the opportunity to snap his neck without any interruptions. 

 

Sans could just feel that sweet, sweet release. It was almost as refreshing as the winter air. Soon he wouldn’t have to live through another REST. Soon he wouldn’t have to suffer through everyday life. Soon he wouldn’t have to feel that overbearing guilt. 

  
  


And that was the best part about it.

  
  
  
  



	6. Bottles & Bottles of Desire

Frisk slowly blinked her eyelids open. She sat up from the couch as she sleepily scanned the room she was found alone in. The TV was was on but judging by the lack of any sound, she figured it was muted. She stretched her arms out as a loud yawn escaped her lips. 

 

Stepping foot on the cold hardwood, Frisk wondered if Lana was still on the phone. The girl figured she hadn’t been asleep for no more than 30 minutes since the movie, “ _ Spaced Invaders _ ”, was still playing on the television, and the small hand on the old grandfather clock barely moved an inch. The tiny girl quietly got to her feet and tip toed upstairs. She planted her ear against her older sister's door, really hoping to eavesdrop in on the conversation since it was a boy that her sibling was secretly talking to. Frisk knew mommy would be very upset if she found out either one of them had a potential boyfriend.

 

“You girls are way too young to be thinking about boys. Focus more on school, or cartoons, or dolls. I used to love playing with dolls when I was your age. It's fun and most importantly, innocent.” Mommy once stated after Lana confessed to having a crush on one of her classmates. 

 

Boys were bad. They both knew this, but Lana couldn't help but break the rules, especially when that “rule” is one of the popular kids in her middle school. 

 

Frisk listened in carefully as she tried to pick up on her sister's voice. It took her a few seconds to realize the room was completely silent. Knocking on the door before quickly swinging it open, Frisk decided she would take the liberty to snoop around or discreetly ask about that special conversation she most likely shouldn't know about. 

 

“Lana! Grandma said earlier she was going to the grocery store and I don't think she's back yet...you didn't have to get off the phone so soon” Frisk giggled as she jumped on her sister's bed. Her older sister was usually very cautious with her words whenever Frisk was around. She figured it had something to do with the girl’s big mouth, but she couldn’t help it. Grandma had a special way of getting the truth out of anyone, and Frisk had a hard time lying. 

 

“When are you gonna go on your first date?” Frisk teased. “If you guys go skating can I come, I promise I won’t tell him about the dirty underwears that you keep leaving on the floor,” 

 

she stuck her head under the bed searching for her sister. After being disappointed with only finding a few old shoes and pieces of paper, she moved on to the closet. “Lana! Are you hiding?”  Frisk pushed aside her older sister’s hanging dresses and thoroughly inspected the inside of the closet. There was no one in there. Frisk scratched her head in confusion. She ran out of her older sister’s room and banged on the bathroom door. 

 

“Lana! Lana! Hurry up and get out before I call mommy!” She shouted at the wood. There was no response, so Frisk stopped her banging. She figured she might as well stick to different, more reliable, tactics to get her to talk. “Fine. I guess I’m just gonna have to tell on you,” She yelled before crossing her arms and pouting. Lana usually instantly confessed whenever threatened, but she was still quiet. This was so out of character that Frisk started to wonder if her sister was hurt. Maybe that boy said mean things to her, or maybe she was sad that she wasn’t allowed to be with him.

 

“Lana?” Frisk gently twisted the doorknob and was shocked to realize it wasn’t locked. She peeked her head inside. 

 

The bathroom was completely empty. 

  
  


~{-}~

 

“PERFECT! YOU’RE A REAL PRO AT SWEEPING,”

 

Papyrus lightly patted Frisk on the shoulder in approval. She flinched from the sudden contact and wanted desperately to move away from him, but she didn’t dare. It took little to remind her of the last time she tried to resist him. He was so furious that he punched her completely unconscious, and when she finally came to, she couldn’t feel anything below the waist for the next few days. 

 

So instead of trying to gain more space between herself and the tall monster behind her, Frisk focused her attention on her sweeping. Gathering dust quickly into a large pile and hoping that he would stop touching her so she could clean in peace.

 

“YOU’RE...you’re doing really good..” Papyrus kept his hand on her shoulder as he started to slowly squeeze. Frisk slightly turned her head as she glance up at his face. His eye sockets were void of light and his facial expression was blank. 

 

Frisk was suddenly brought back to the first time she left the Ruins. She was cold, hungry, and oddly confused. Confused because her mind was telling her none of what she was experiencing was real. She knew it couldn’t possibly be, she knew that the only logical explanation was that she was somehow stuck in a dream. None of it was real yet the pain she felt couldn’t be ignored. She couldn’t just  _ not _ think about the frostbites striking her bare toes. She couldn't pretend her stomach wasn't empty and begging to be filled. It didn't matter how powerful she believed her imagination to be, there was no way her mind freely created any of this situation. And there was definitely no way the creature standing just a few feet away from her was something of make-believe. 

 

Papyrus was just as real then as he is now, and so was that distant look in his eyes. 

 

“..Did you ever disassociate whenever I was..” Papyrus didn't finish his question and Frisk didn't say a word. She didn't know if she could answer that. For one, Frisk had no idea what or how to disassociate, and two, she didn't exactly know if she was allowed to answer his questions. Whenever she could, Frisk would try her hardest not to speak to him or anyone else for that matter. He never seemed to mind. As Chara always said, 

 

Papyrus loved the sound of his own voice. 

 

“You can tell me. I promise I won't get mad,” He finally withdrew his hand, but Frisk kept sweeping. She didn’t know what he wanted her to say. Frisk didn’t know what she was expected to do, so she thought for a minute before she gave a response. 

 

“...I don't know.” She quietly mumbled, not taking her attention away from the dust pile at her feet. He was making her more and more uncomfortable, but her body was so used to this feeling that she became good at hiding it. Perhaps if he kept pushing Chara would finally decide to start talking again. Better yet, the girl in her head might take over completely, and Frisk could go back to whatever fantasyland her brain managed to conjure up for her.  

 

“..I have. Do you know what that feels like?” Her captor slowly ran a finger along the edge of his jawbone. He was engulfed in this burning thoughts as suddenly his face seemed tormented. Whatever small curiosity Frisk might’ve had just evaporated the moment her eyes accidentally locked on to his. She didn’t want to know what “dissociate” meant, and she definitely didn’t want to feel it. 

 

Papyrus lifted his shirt, exposing his bare rib cage and spinal cord. I faint glow bursted through his chest as a heart shaped orb appeared before her very eyes. “It’s like your soul leaving your body. Have you ever felt that before?” He extended his hand towards her chest as she slowly started to panic. “It rattles your bones and leaves you stiff with chills. Have I done this to you? Have I ever made your life a living nightmare? Have I ever made it so bad that your mind splits and you're no longer  _ you _ ?” He laid his large palm on her clothed breasts. His hand almost the size of her entire torso, as he was drawn to her heartbeat. Frisk held her breath not sure what to expect next. 

 

_ Was he going to hurt her again? _

 

A cold sweat slid down from her forehead to her cheek as she felt a painful pressure push against her skin. Before she could even react or question what was happening, she felt something violently rip right through her, as she fell to her knees in shock. She was sobbing warm wet tears as her body started feeling very empty like an egg cracked open and devoid of its yoke. Her sight went fuzzy as she felt her body going cold. The world was spinning and standing still all at once. Her heart was beating loudly with such force that her eardrums nearly burst. “...please..” she finally got out through messy gasps. 

 

Papyrus squat down and ran his phalanges through her hair. He looked just as terrified as she felt, but he kept her soul and his own in his grasps as he looked at her. “I’m not trying to hurt you..in fact I-I think I love you very much..I just” His hand slid down her body as it landed on her stomach. He cuddle it with great care as he planted a light kiss on her soul. “..I just want you to know how it feels..it can get so much worse than this, and I don’t want you to have to experience that.”

 

The slender skeleton smiled at her. It was the same smile Sans gave her when he first found the small girl trapped upstairs in that little room as a prisoner. 

 

The smile was genuine. 

 

It was kind of ecstatic.

 

Frisk closed her eyes tight as she tried to envision being back home with her mother. She wanted to see her face again, to see her sister and her grandmother, and to be anywhere but here on the floor gasping for air like a fish stranded on shore. 

 

Maybe if she prayed and promised never again to lie or pick on Bobby in her elementary school, or if she stopped stealing her teacher’s gel pens, maybe then she could wake up back home in her bed. 

 

**(**)**

“I said I’d never hurt you again and I meant it...I really did, but what I’m about to do will bring us so much closer together-”

 

“No, no...you promised...please...you promised” Frisk broke down as she felt her body tense up. There really was no use in trying to convince him, but she couldn’t help herself.  “I’m sorry, but its gonna feel good..it's gonna feel really good,” He then took the two souls and placed them in separate palms, rubbing his sharp thumb gently on the squishy surface. Frisk started to shiver as she somehow felt his soft touch as if he was tickling her insides. It didn't take long for Papyrus to grow aroused by Frisk’s sudden lewd expressions. He placed his tongue between the crease of her soul, slurping and carefully licking down the middle in order to get the full sweet taste. 

 

Frisk found herself feeling more and more ill as her mind got hazy. Whatever it was he was doing to her didn't feel good, but it also didn't feel bad. She just felt hot and so exhausted. “Please,” she pled with him again but he ignored her and kept going. 

 

Frisk couldn't take it anymore, so she held her breath in order to force herself to pass out. She's done it before many times, and the trick to it all was not to have Papyrus know what she was doing. Just breath in, stay still, and try to count to 85. The world would often go black before then. 

**(**)**

 

Just as Frisk inhaled, Papyrus froze. The room fell quiet as he shifted his attention towards the bathroom door. Frisk didn't know what was happening, so she didn't move, instead she closely listened in. 

 

Like blowing on a mood ring, Papyrus’ face drastically turned sour. He gently dropped her soul back into her small chest as Frisk felt the blood rushing through her again. She was relieved that the assault was cut short, but this celebration was also short lived.

 

The slender skeleton got to his feet and tugged at nothing, as if he was a mime with an imaginary rope. It would’ve been a silly sight if Frisk wasn’t terrified that he might actually be going insane.

 

It would make sense, though. Only an insane person would hurt someone the way he hurt her. Only an insane person would keep her hostage.

 

Papyrus tugged again with more force this time. It took a moment before, surprisingly, a long thick chain-link leash materialized out of thin air. Papyrus ran his fingers along it’s top and underbelly, as if studying the contents of the black metal.

 

Frisk was mesmerized by it. Even though it was very threatening and eerie, it was strangely beautiful. The shining metal lead to the bathroom, and the tiny girl instantly knew it was somehow attached to Sans collar. 

 

“THAT BASTARD!” Papyrus shot to the bathroom, kicked the door open with such ease, and growled as he glared at the leash going through the open window. His brother’s clothes were scattered all over the floor, and some of the chain was hanging over the shower rod. 

 

Sans escaped. 

 

Of course he did. 

 

Papyrus stormed back into the living room as he threw on his boots. He was cursing profusively while tieing the laces. Frisk stood and watched, a bit confused on how the skeleton was ever able to tell that Sans ran away. She wondered if her collar did the same. That thought made her sad.

 

“I SHOULD BE BACK IN NO MORE THAN A HOUR. THAT DUMB PIECE OF SHIT IS ONLY A FEW BLOCKS FROM HERE AND HE’S PROBABLY PASSED OUT DRUNK” He barked at her in a hurry, not caring that he just tipped over a glass vase that shattered on the floor. 

 

Frisk kept silent as she started to realize he was going to leave her home alone. There wouldn’t be anyone to stop her if she walked out that door, but would that be the smartest decision? Obviously Papyrus already thought of such a thing ever occurring, hence the reason he was freely leaving without trying to lock her up or anything of that nature. There was probably something sinisterly bad waiting for her outside, so Frisk would play it safe. She won’t try to escape, not today. 

 

But judging by the way Papyrus just slammed the front door, she was just glad she wasn’t Sans. 

 

{-}

 

“Hey, uh so you still up for that offer?” Sans nervously picked at his rib as he leaned in over the counter. Grillby stared him up and down before dropping the glass he was shining. The flame element sizzled as he scoffed.  As always, Sans looked pathetic and smelled awful. He knew that even a monster with half a brain would want nothing to do with him. Hell, Sans shouldn’t even be in his bar considering he was butt naked, but Grillby couldn’t resist. 

 

Sans was just too enjoyable to fuck. 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but have you ever considered taking a shower every now and then?”  The flame moved on to scrubbing the counter as Sans grunted in discomfort. He looked around the tavern and wasn’t shocked to see it was empty besides the two of them. It was around 12 o’clock in the afternoon, after all. 

 

“c’mon.. I’ll do anything,”

 

“Anything?” The flame raised a curious eyebrow.

 

“Anything. I’m dying here...I just need something to make the pain go away,” He started slightly rocking as he felt his addiction biting at him. He hated the feeling. He hated fucking people for the “substance”. He hated the thoughts running rampant in his mind, but soon it wouldn’t matter. Soon he would wash away the years and years of neverending torment. Soon his bones would be pure again.

 

Grillby smirked at him, but Sans couldn’t tell since he lacked a mouth or any other facial features. So he stood awkwardly for a few seconds as he waited for a response.

 

“Go to our usual spot and I'll meet you there,” Grillby sighed as he pointed to the back.  Sans nodded as he scurried towards the boiler room. 

 

As the door swung open, intense heat hit his skull. Sans fanned his face as he attempted to get acquainted with the steam. Out of all the disgusting pigs he was forced to get on his knees for, Grillby was by far the worst, but also the easiest to get the “substance” out of. If only he knew where that bastard was hiding his stash, then he wouldn’t have to be doing this. 

 

_ Heh, he'd gladly rob him blind _ .

 

Scratching violently at his lower left rib bone, Sans started to zone out. The room was flickering, and he could swear his legs were turning into jello. This needed to be over soon. 

 

“You ready to do this?” 

 

Sans turned as the door shut behind Grillby. He was undoing his belt while his flame hissed in pleasure. 

 

_ That was quick. Too quick. _

 

Sans could tell by the tone of his voice, that the fire element was more than excited to do this. That was just great. Now he would probably be forced to do anal rather than a quick blowjob and done. 

 

How could this ever get any worse.

 

“I was wondering if uh..if i could get it first? You know...to ease the pain” Sans nervously asked. Grillby snickered as he dropped his pants and exposed his burning erection. He pulled a chair out from the corner of the room and sat down, patting his lap in anticipation. When the skeleton didn’t move an inch, Grillby pulled a little baggy, containing ash-like powder, from his pocket. Sans hesitantly approached him as his eyes locked on to the “substance”. God how his mind went fuzzy and his mouth watered. He wished he didn’t need it. He wished he could walk away right now and maybe just forget this all happened. 

 

Maybe he didn’t need to kill himself, maybe he could get clean and go back to living a normal life. Life isn’t hopeless, right? That’s what Papyrus said, didn’t he?

 

“Maybe. Depends on how good you suck me off. No slacking like last time, alright?” 

 

Suddenly those thoughts didn’t matter anymore. He just wanted it. No. He needed it. He need it so bad. Just to make the pain go away. This would be the last time. 

 

_ The very last time _ . 

 

And if he was lucky, maybe he could start from scratch in his next life. He won’t fuck up Papyrus like he did last time. He would kill Gaster much sooner this time. Kill him before he got to his brother. 

 

**(**)**

Sans dropped to his knees as he hung his tongue out of his mouth. He grabbed a hold of Grillby’s dick, trying to endure the pain caused by the 3rd degree burns he was surely creating on his palms. He stroked it from the tip down to the base, ignoring the blackening of his phalanges and the smell of burning marrow. Taking a big deep breath, Sans placed his glowing tongue directly on the molting hot shaft. Realizing how god-awful it felt, he attempted to not push away. He couldn’t do that or he wouldn’t get the drugs.

 

“Mmm..Good boy,” Grillby mockingly patted him on the head. It took every ouch in Sans body to not extinguish the dumb fucker right there. He needed to get this over with. 

 

Getting a better grip on Grillby's dick, Sans shoved as much of it down his throat as his body would allow. His tongue started to toy with it as he rapidly bobbed his head over the flame’s erection. Tears began to pool at his sockets as the agony in his mouth slowly started to feel worse than his sickening withdrawal. 

 

Sans could taste his blood mixing in with the saliva and pre-cum. It was the worst thing his taste buds had to endure for a long time. Yet, even though his mouth felt like an oven, and Sans could  swear his head was about to explode and kill him right there, this wasn’t the worst he’s ever felt. Not by a long shot. He grew up practically as a lab rat. Having things from needles to butcher knives stuck in him. Being pried open and inspected inside and out. Having every bone in his body broken, and being mere inches from death in several occasion. This was nothing new. He’ll get over it.

 

He always does. 

  
  


Through teary eyes, Sans looked up at Grillby, who was moaning and burning a deep blue. The room was getting really hot as more steam began to cloud the atmosphere. It was so steamy that neither Sans, nor Grillby, noticed Papyrus standing near the entrance. 

**(**)**

 

Papyrus was mad. 

 

_ Very mad. _

 

So mad that when he struck the legs of the wooden chair, they feebly flew off and caused Grillby to land flat on his behind. Sans quickly pulled his mouth away from the sudden commotion. It freely hung open dripping blood, drool, and cum all over the floor. 

 

Sans would’ve been more shocked to see his little brother suddenly appear before them, if he wasn’t distracted by the pain in his jaws, and the thought of wanting nothing more than to get high at that very moment. Nothing mattered but the “substance”, and he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care about anything else. 

  
  


Papyrus hefted Grillby to his feet by his shirt collar. 

 

“Woah, woah there, officer. Me and Sans here were just having a little fun, the last I checked that wasn't a crime.” Grillby firmly patted him on the shoulder as she hung a few inches from the ground. 

 

Papyrus could tell this bastard had a smug look on his face, he was just lucky he couldn't see it. Without second thought, he punched the flame element square in the gut, causing him to gag and spit the air out trapped in his lungs. 

 

Papyrus was planning on dropping him, he was simply going to grab Sans and head home, but now he was getting really stressed from all the anger surfacing to his head. He couldn't just leave before getting a few good hits in first. 

 

He tightened his hold on Grillby’s collar before striking him  _ over and over and over _ again. Each blow caused a more ear piercing wail, as his fist made repeated contact with the flame's stomach. He kept this up for a few minutes, clearing his frustration and rage and transferring it directly in every punch. He loved the sound his living punching bag made. He loved to hear him gag and plea. He loved to see the light slowly drain out of him as he fell unconscious. 

 

Nothing was better than making the weak pay. He hated perverted scum. He hated people that used others for their pleasure. He hated abusers. He hated selfish assholes. He hated people who couldn't keep their promises. He hated hypocrites. 

 

_ He hated himself. _

 

After a few moments, Papyrus finally dropped Grillby and left him a bloody mess on the floor. 

 

“I can't do it, Paps. I need it...please just get it for me..” Sans was curled up, twitching, in a ball. If Papyrus was any more heartless he would've gladly kicked Sans while he was down. He deserved it after all, but Papyrus couldn't bring himself to do that. 

 

Instead he picked his big brother up and held him in his arms, gently cradling him like an infant. Sans shivered in his embrace as he kept up his compulsive scratching. 

 

“Sans, please let me help you. I swear I'll make the pain go away..you just have to let me,” He whispered against his brother's skull. Sans let fat tears escape his sockets as he deeply thought about what his brother said. Maybe Papyrus could help him. Maybe Sans should just swallow his pride and let whatever happen,  _ happen _ . 

 

“Okay.” He finally managed to get out. Papyrus smiled at him with such a comforting smile that Sans couldn't help but bawl like a baby. For the first time in a long time his mind seem to clear. Even though he was sobbing heavily a sense of peace came over him, and he felt genuinely calm. 

 

“That's it. Get it all out,” His younger brother gently rubbed his spine as he cried. That burning sensation loosened up as Sans took in a breath of air. He decided he would live. He wouldn't try to take his own life, not until he could make it up to Papyrus. He would undo all the horrible deeds he's done throughout the years. He'll make his brother truly happy.

 

The two of them stood in the middle of the boiler room for what felt like eternity. They didn't say a word to each other, and they didn't need to. 

 

And for once, the room stopped spinning. 

 


	7. Brother Killed Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the last of the updated chapters. From now forward we are dealing with new territory (」ﾟﾛﾟ)｣
> 
> I am still working on Chapter 8 believe it or not. I should have it finished by Friday if all goes well :P

“Hey, Paps. Get up,” Sans gently shook his younger brother’s stiff body, trying to wake him. It was half past midnight and their shared bedroom was nearly pitch black. Papyrus groaned as he rolled over in his sleep.

 

It was far too earlier for Sans to be messing with him. Father usually woke them up by 3, and that didn’t give him a lot of time to rest. He kept his eyes shut while not trying to question why his lazy brother was up at this time when he usually tried his hardest to sleep-in. Papyrus was far too tired to question anything, and at that moment nothing Sans could do or say was going to get him out of bed. 

 

The previous night was rough. 

 

_ Very rough _ . 

 

Father was convinced he was close to making a scientific breakthrough after chugging a few too many bottles of whisky. He decided to up the antics and finally used that jigsaw he modified months ago. He sliced through chunks of the boys bones with such nonchalance, not to mention great carelessness, that it was beyond terrifying. More terrifying than having a razor sharp blade cut through your femur. Papyrus was just grateful Father was willing to patch them up after the “experiment”, rather than leaving them in pieces like a scattered puzzle. He’s done that many times before in the past, and Papyrus didn’t like having to go days without an arm or a leg. Despite being a skeleton, it did hurt tremendously losing your limbs, and stitching back a body part was no easy task even with magic. 

 

The small skeleton wanted nothing more than to put the last 24 hours behind him and drift back to dreamland. There he was safe and no one, not Father or anyone else, could ever harm him. It was his secret haven, his peaceful paradise, and he was beyond convinced that it kept him sane. Too bad he didn’t get enough chances to sleep, and when he did it was often hard for him to fall unconscious. His mind was always racing, but now it wasn’t. It was as calm as the sea after a violent storm. Soothing. Tranquil. Still. The only good thing in his abused little life.

 

_ Why couldn’t Sans let him get at least a few more minutes of sleep. _

 

“C’mon, Paps...we really gotta go.” Sans shook him with more force. Putting a lot of aggression and panicked anger in his rough shoves. This wouldn’t be the first time Sans tried to gain his attention in the middle of the night, but that usually never ended well for Papyrus. He really hoped his brother didn’t want to play another game of  “doctor” and have him suffer through more “inspections” in Sans deceitful promise of healing him. The “inspections” never helped, they just made him more agitated and confused. 

 

“Get up now before I drag you out of bed,” His older brother now had desperation and fear in his voice. He was acting as if he broke Father’s favorite surgical instrument and was scared of getting caught and beaten. 

 

Perhaps whatever he wanted was serious. Papyrus slowly sat up as he wiped his sleepy sockets. He could barely make out his brother’s face in the dim light. 

 

“What’s going on? Why aren’t you sleeping-”

 

“We need to leave now before someone realizes he’s gone,” Sans started looking around their room in a paranoid fashion, almost as if he was scared someone was going to jump out of nowhere and harm them. Did he really break one of Father’s instruments? If so, what would Papyrus have to do with any of that?  Sans behaviour was odd and it was starting to get to him. Should he be afraid as well? 

 

_ What was going on? _

 

“Sans, I don’t understand. Who’s gone?”

 

Sans jumped down from his brother’s bed and pulled a school bag from the closet. He went around the room stuffing clothes inside before zipping it up and placing it around his shoulders. He then threw on a pair of snickers before poking his head outside of their bedroom door. 

 

The lab was quiet. It was always quiet. Quiet unless Father was in the middle of one of his “experiments”. Papyrus hated the eeriness of it all. The lab felt like a morgue, and perhaps that was fitting seeing he was a skeleton. But he was very much alive, so alive he could oddly feel the air passing through his ribcage and his soul thumping against his bones. He wasn’t the walking dead or a decomposed corpse, so he didn’t deserve to be somewhere so gloomy and depressing.Yet, he was still trapped in this porcelain prison. The walls were white, the floors were clean, but every inch was still stained with such strong filth.   

 

“Are you coming or what? What part of ‘we need to leave now’ do you not understand?” Sans threw him a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Papyrus stared at the pieces of clothing as if it was a strange foreign object. None of it was making any sense. What could his brother have possibly done to put him in such a rush.

 

_ Were they no longer needed? _

 

Papyrus remembered over hearing Father on the phone a few days ago, and just how furious he was about the possibility of losing his funding. Apparently, he wasn’t showing results fast enough and the king wanted to cut him off completely. He threatened to have him replaced by the end of the month if he didn’t come up with something efficient soon. After Father got off the phone he tore his office in pieces out of an angry rage. He was so mad that he didn’t even bother to feed them, or let them out of their room for a good two days. Papyrus didn’t realize just how hungry he could get, until then.

 

“You're supposed to put it on, genius,” Sans teased as he rubbed the back of his neck impatiently.

 

Still confused about what was going, Papyrus decided to obey as he quickly got dressed. There was no point in prolonging any of this, and if Father did have plans of “terminating” them it was best to hurry up and leave. But Papyrus was still so curious. He was always curious, and that part of his nature got him in a lot of trouble. 

 

“Will you tell me now?” Papyrus asked as Sans grabbed his hand and lead him through the long halls of the laboratory. It was a bit shocking that their bedroom door wasn’t locked. Father made sure every night to securely lock it before he went to bed. 

 

Sans didn't say a word for a while as they walked in silence. The shorter of the two frequently pulling a crumpled map from his back pocket and inspecting it, whispering to himself as he attempted to pinpoint where exactly they were going. It was no easy task since all the walls and doors looked the same, not to mention the map itself was like trying to decipher a twisted maze. Sans usually could handle tough situations and complicated problems, but he somehow couldn’t now. Father made sure to state Sans was the smarter one whenever given the chance, but puzzles have always been Papyrus’ thing. It was like he was a prodigy at cracking them. Impressive if the rest of his brother wasn’t so dumb. Sans was slightly tempted to have his younger brother give the map a look, but his pride held him back. 

 

“Sans-”

 

“Shut it for a moment! I can't think if you're fucking yapping!” He stressfully barked.

 

Papyrus let go of his brother's hand and stopped barely shuffling behind him. He wasn’t even sure if he could trust Sans. What if Father wanted Sans to snatch him out of bed. What if Sans was just doing as he was told. What if his brother was leading him to his death. 

 

 “I-I’m not going anywhere with you...not if you’re gonna talk to me like that,” He cuddled his arm near his chest, looking at the hand he just grasped. Papyrus was scared, but he was always scared, so this was nothing new.

 

“Why are you just standing there? Why can't you understand that we need to get the hell outta here,” 

 

Papyrus stubbornly didn't budge. He needed to know what was going to happen to him. Where exactly were they heading? 

 

Sans growled.

 

“Fine! I'll tell you...Father’s gone and if we don't leave before sunrise we might be trapped in here for-”

 

“Father's gone? B-but where did he go?” Papyrus asked surprisingly panicked. If Father wasn’t here anymore, who was going to take care of them? The two boys were never fortunate enough to actually see any other monsters in person, but they’ve seen plenty in pictures, and each photo was always depressing. Father made sure to only show people suffering. Never a smile in sight. Never a happy moment.  

 

Sans turned around to face him with a smile on his face. A very bizarre smirk stretching from cheek to cheek. It was a smile Papyrus grew accustomed to whenever Sans wanted to “play”. It was a sick smile that made Papyrus very nervous. He wanted to run away and hide and never ever come out, since he didn’t feel safe. He never felt safe and it wasn’t fair. Did everyone feel this way? Did everyone look so amused at the thought that they may be in great danger? Did everyone harm the people they were supposed to love? Papyrus deeply wished Sans wouldn’t grin at him like that ever again. 

 

“He's dead. I killed him.”

 

But of course, that grin became his brother's permanent signature. 

  
  



	8. Bottles & Bottles of Disgust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its finally done. Lol why did it take me months to write this chapter??? ╥﹏╥

“Why do you...hate me?” 

 

The little girl rolled over to face the smaller skeleton’s steady spine. He laid motionless next to her. Not moving an inch.  As still as a rotted corpse. This lead Frisk to wonder if her current bedmate was breathing at all. She closely watched for any signs of life all while holding back the urge to poke him to quickly check.

 

_ If he was dead that would be absolutely perfect.  _

 

She would already have one of the two down and could focus all her thought power on getting rid of Papyrus. But then again, how did she know Sans was ever alive to begin with. Skeletons were the hard structure things buried inside of you, right? Frisk had a skeleton, everyone she's ever known had one too, and they only come out when your in a coffin, in the ground, after death. At least that is how movies portray it. 

 

For all she knew, Sans could be the skeleton of some old man who died hundreds of years ago. He could be out for revenge, and this would explain his horrible attitude towards her. Maybe some little girl in the past did him wrong. Maybe this little girl stole something precious from him, or  _ murdered his entire family. _ Maybe Frisk kind of looked like her. It was a possibility. She could be dealing with a haunted spirit. Chara told her otherwise, but Frisk chose to ignore her. 

 

A ghost made the most logical sense. 

 

_ But ghost's can't die, and they don't drink. _

 

But maybe they could die. How would Chara know anything about ghosts if she wasn't one herself.

 

Just as Frisk grew a little worried, the creature next to her let out a big sign, signifying that he was still alive. But that didn't mean much. He could still be the ghost of a vengeful old man. 

 

And there was only one way of finding out.

 

Frisk weakly whispered against her pillow, “H-how did you die…..who k-killed you?”

 

Sans didn't say a word for a moment. Maybe he didn't hear her, or he was just going to ignore her again. Frisk assumed he was probably reliving his horrific death. Perhaps it wasn't wise to ask a ghost about their demise. She was going to apologize when Sans let out a low growl that echoed throughout the stuffy room.

 

“What the hell are you talking about? I ain't dead yet, kid” He hissed as he turned quickly around to face her. “Unless your planning something, and in that case bad move to warn your prey before you pounce.” He spat on her with each pronounce of the letter “P”, causing Frisk to wince back from the liquid impact.  _ How rude of him _ . All Frisk could do was frown as she nervously wiped her cheeks clean. 

 

_ And Ghosts can't spit. _

 

Sans smugly grinned then shut his sockets again. Snoring as if he was in deep sleep. Frisk stared daggers at him, knowing he could feel her piercing glare, but he didn't acknowledge her presence in the slightest. 

 

It wasn't like Frisk wanted to be here. She didn't come up with the genius idea to sleep in Sans’ bed. If she had her way, Frisk would've happily returned to her small cell in order to avoid Sans and that brother of his. They both made her so physically ill-- both brought about this desperate feeling of anger that filled her head with overwhelming emotions and untrustworthy thoughts. Silly thoughts like murdering every being that ever considered stepping foot in this nightmarish house. She couldn't just make her grand escape without a little bloodshed. But that was childish, stupid and maybe borderline psychotic. There was no way she could ever seize her revenge without dying brutally. They were all so much stronger than her. Frisk was nothing more than a dumb helpless child who was destined to be abandoned and abused for the rest of her short life. 

 

She deserved it for being so disobedient. She was bad and that is why bad things were happening to her.   

 

Chara disagreed, but her opinion didn't change their situation, so right now it didn't matter.

  
  


Frisk was never going to see her family again and there was absolutely nothing she could do about that. It was best to push everything back. There's no good in dwelling on the past. Like Grandma always use to say-- 

 

_ forgive and forget. _

 

But that was becoming increasingly difficult each passing second. She was giving up on holding that last piece of hope-- of sanity. Frisk didn't know if her body could handle much more of this. 

 

_ Why was she ever so bad? _

 

She could feel the intense body heat of the monster laying next to her, burning her like a hot furnace. Frisk was at the edge of the bed and had nowhere to go. She couldn't flee from the pain. She was trapped like a cornered animal. She was always trapped. Always cornered. 

 

And though Sans never touched her in that pervertedly ailing way Papyrus did, the little girl knew the skeleton was more than capable of it. Frisk noticed the utter hatred in his eyes-- the utter  _ hopelessness  _ towards everything. It was like Sans gave up on caring about his own well being, and thus was more willing to take risks that would most likely kill him. In that case nothing matters. There was no overthinking or analysing. There was just doing.

 

_ Death was his goal after all anyways, right _ ?

 

Frisk knew little about him, or most things in the adult world for that matter, but he seemed to be so comfortable with willingly confessing his suicidal tendencies to a total stranger. It was dumb and crazy to her, and even being so young, Frisk simply knew you just  _ don't _ do that.

 

_ But Frisk wasn't a stranger to him.  _

_ Sans was only a stranger to her. _

 

The skeleton knew everything about the tiny human. Little intricate details that Frisk didn't even know about herself. Though supposedly stuck underground, Sans could state her full address, zip code and all. He knew the full names of her grandmother, mother, sister and even the father she's met only a few times. He knew what school she went to. What stores her family frequently shopped at. The last movie she saw before she fell. All information she never told anyone, yet when she anxiously asked one time, he causally stated she told him.

 

Frisk had never met Sans a day in her life before she was dragged to this house, and while she was here she barely spoke a word.

 

_ Obviously he's been watching them for some time. This is why he must be avoided at all costs. _

 

This would easily frighten the daylights out of anyone, especially considering how impossible his claims were. Was he a mind reader on top of being a haunted spirit?

Frisk’s fears grew to that beyond belief. 

 

_ He was stalking them. _

 

Sans didn't seem capable of thinking straight-- or maybe he just didn't want to. Either scenario still placed a glowing red flag above his head that screamed “Stay Away!” And here she was, defenceless and all, laying next to danger. 

 

Sans didn’t adhere to basic morale, and the tragic thing about it-- it probably wasn't his fault. The smaller skeleton apparently was mentally ill, and according to Chara, this was so blatantly obvious.  _ That is way she kept calling him a retard, right? _ That didn't excuse his actions, though. Maybe it just made them much worse. 

 

Not to mention the heavy stench of perversion that fogged up their atmosphere. The house felt like a torture chamber, smeared with the gruesome atrocities that went on there. It didn't matter how clean it appeared to be, it was forever filthy.

 

_ The house wasn't clean _ . 

 

It was apparent that when Sans got good and ready, every line known to humanity would easily be crossed just to get his jimmy wet. 

 

_ Why Did he want to wet a Jimmy? Chara never did elaborate _ .

 

He didn't care for the feelings of others and definitely didn't care who he hurt just as long as he felt some form of pleasure. And that's all that mattered to him.

 

Papyrus had to learn it from somewhere. There was no way any person would just wake up one day and decided to harm someone in such a scaring way. If Sans really was Papyrus’ caretaker for a number of years it was obvious where he learned it from.

 

“Why do you hate me?” The little girl repeated with more clarity against the skeletons skull. She wanted to make sure he heard her loud and clear. He answered her for the previous question, so this one shouldn't be too difficult to get a response from him.

 

_ Why did Frisk care to know the answer to this question so bad? _

 

It wasn't like Sans’ opinion of her would make much of a difference. Papyrus was in charge of basically everything in his brother's life, and whatever he says, goes. Didn't matter how much Sans wanted to harm her, which he expressed several times before, he wouldn't unless Papyrus allowed it. At this current moment Papyrus wouldn't allow it.

 

But that could change any moment.

 

And yet, though they were disgusting, Sans’ actions were far from mind-boggling. So far every monster Chara was unfortunate enough to come in contact with, wielded this same selfish nature. Everyone was on the hunt to take advantage of another just to get a little ahead.

 

_ This is simply nature. It's kill or be killed. _

 

Sans shifted in the sheets as he attempted to get more comfortable. He snored louder hoping Frisk would get the hint and stop trying to talk to him. 

 

She pouted then decided to take a quick glance at her surroundings. The room was faintly dim with only a far away light beaming from beneath the shut door. It was hard for her to make out anything besides the silhouettes of a few lumps and bumps. Frisk was always afraid of the dark, but now more so than ever.

 

She just wanted a quick answer. He needed to answer her question. Why was it so hard for Sans to give her a reply? Maybe he hated her so much he didn't want to waste even a fragment of his energy on her. 

 

_ She should just drop it. _

 

After a long drawn out pause, Frisk decided to give up. There was no point in waiting on an answer that will never come. Sans wouldn't talk to her and it was foolish to think otherwise.

 

Rolling over to properly face the clutter of clothing that made up Sans’ room, Frisk finally decided to give way to the overbearing weight of sleep. 

 

{~}

 

Sans listened in closely to the soft breathing of the child next to him. He focused on it-- studied it as she made a rhythmic pattern of light inhales followed by heavy exhales. The warm air escaping her nostrils were faintly tickling the back of his spine. It was soothing, so calming that it almost put him in a hypnotic trance.

 

Sans really thought about what Frisk said. It was oddly beginning to bother him.  _ Why did he hate her? _ He obviously knew the answer, she was an evil useless pile of flesh, that if given the chance, wouldn't hesitate to kill everything in sight. But he also knew that with each reset, this “thing” would lose memory and deal with certain repetitive situations in a completely different way. Obviously Frisk had no recollection of her past actions. 

Plus Sans had to admit that there were resets where Frisk didn't slaughter everyone he's ever loved, and in fact became good friends with him and Papyrus. There were a few resets where Sans enjoyed her company. Resets that were spent the whole time talking and getting to know the little girl very well. Resets where Sans could say he cared for her deeply.

 

_ But those were so long ago. _

 

And Sans knew as the resets went by and he was forced to relive such horrific events over and over again, he become someone he couldn't recognize. Papyrus also became so different, even though he never remembered a thing after a new timeline. 

 

A few resets back the thought of Papyrus even having consensual sex was so far fetched for Sans. His brother was just too... _ good _ to be engaging in intercourse with any lowly creature. It was either that or he was far too stupid and naive to even grasp the concept despite past “circumstances”. Sex and Papyrus were just two words that did not go together, and maybe Sans was okay with that. Maybe he wasn't. None of it really mattered since he never had to worry about it.

 

Until now of course.

 

There was something about Frisk that perverted his innocent little brother, and it honestly sickened Sans. Papyrus was willing to fuck her. Fuck this disgusting creature of all beings. This creature that wanted to turn him into nothing more than a shitty pile of dust, and yet his brother didn't care. All the things Sans had done for him and Papyrus hadn't done as much as say a simple thank you. His little brother “loved” the filthy human. He loved such a worthless thing, and it just wasn't fair. Sans would do anything in a heartbeat for Papyrus. He would give life and limb just to hear Papyrus scream his name, to have him touch his body, to give him goosebumps, to have Paps ram his-

 

_ This is why he hated her. _

 

Sans wanted to throw up every time he thought about his brother with the anomaly. What did she have that Sans didn't? She was an ugly little thing that resembled a male juvenile  ape more than anything else. All she did was cry and complain, a complete nuisance. There was absolutely nothing appealing about her, so why risk so much for this human? 

 

This was just another way for life to be so cruel to poor ol’ Sans.   

 

First it wouldn't let him die, and now he couldn't even fuck his little brother. God! Life was suck a controlling bitch.

 

And this is why it was only fair he needed to make Frisk suffer. He had to get back at life and this was a perfect way to do it. Whatever was so good about this demon that made his brother compromise years of celibacy, Sans was going to find out. 

 

**(**)**

The skeleton lifted the sheets to look down at his dark shorts. It had been awhile since he last masturbated, and he did have to admit that his magic was all pooling and ready to  take all of Grillby, as painful as that may have been. Of course Papyrus put an unexpected end to that and now Sans was left horny as ever. 

 

His mouth watered as he rubbed his pelvis bone. It didn't take much for his magic to do its thing and materialize into a thick throbbing shaft. The bulge lifted the center of his shorts, making what resembled a tiny wrinkled mountain. He pried his bottoms off as the red glow from his warm magic lit up their side of the room. His dick was dripping with pre cum as he slide a cold bony hand up the slightly raised t-shirt of the sleeping girl next to him. Her swollen belly felt warm against his palms. He cradled her stomach, lightly rubbing her soft skin. Frisk continued to remain fast asleep as her soothing breathing kept the same pace. 

 

Sans grabbed a hold of his hard dick as he moaned from the built up pressure. He felt like he was going to explode from the slightest of movements. The monster was so tempted to just rub one out and wipe all of the “contents” on the anomaly's filthy body, but reconsidered when he realized he would probably get more pleasure if he stuck it in her.  

 

Frisk still didn't flinch, which was perfect. He preferred to give her a rude awakening. 

 

Sans gently climbed on top of the sleeping girl. Running his sharp claws against her thighs and poking his glowing erection at her panties. He stared at her still face. She looked so peaceful, so harmless, so innocent.

**(**)**

 

For a minute he got hit with a heavy wave of guilt followed by second thoughts. Did he really need to do this? 

 

Despite his hatred for her, Frisk was just a kid. A kid who enjoyed meeting new people and playing on the swings, and most of all loved asking questions. She was such a curious little thing and once she got comfortable enough, she could talk for hours upon hours. Sans used to enjoy that about her. She used to remind him of Papyrus when he was younger.

 

Sans used to enjoy playing with her and taking her places. If this had been a few resets back, he wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone who dare put a hand on her, including himself. He would never do this to Frisk because he knew she didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve any of this. He honestly didn't have to do this.

 

But then again, this wasn't a few resets back, this was a new one. A reset where Sans was a fucking junkie and too drugged up to even think straight. It was a reset where Papyrus, of all people, had become nothing more than a rapist and it was all  _ her _ fault. Frisk turned his brother into a demented pedophile, and Frisk  _ made _ him take drugs to ease his pain.

 

If anyone deserved this, it was her.

 

Plus he began to feel the effects of his withdrawal all over again, and Sans couldn't bring himself to care anymore. He did need this. He needed to hurt her and there would be no convincing him otherwise. He couldn't give a flying fuck about this dumb parasite of a human. 

 

**(**)**

Shifting her underwear to the side, the skeleton pressed the tip of his penis against her entrance. He counted down from  _ five _ as he placed a cuffed hand on her mouth. The last thing he needed was for her to scream and have Papyrus bust through the door. 

 

He prepared himself for what was going to happen next. It had been a long while since he last had sex with a female and he honestly couldn't remember how it felt. He also couldn't remember the face of said “female”, so there was a chance it was one of his weird fantasies during one of his blackouts.  In fact, Sans used to pass out a lot in public, for all he knew he could've had sex with a whole heap of different chicks. And other strangers. Which would explain his sore pelvis a few months back.

 

_ What an awful thing to think about. _

 

He needed to remember  _ to remember _ to make that mental note not to visit the Eastern side of Snowdin in the next timeline.

 

When Sans finally got down to  _ one _ , he shoved himself deep inside Frisk’s walls with great force. Her eyes almost instantly shot open, with pupils shrinking to pin pricks, as she frantically gasped. Her mind trying to quickly gather what was going on, trying to locate the cause of her sudden pain. 

 

Sans smiled as her trembling whimpers filled his ear cavities. He slowly pulled out when she grabbed a hold of his stiff humerus, touching up and down the bone as if she was blind and attempting to make sure it was, in fact, bone. She was feeling him up to make sure he was really there. Trying to make sure he was in fact assaulting her and this wasn't just another one of her nightmares.

 

His grin grew wider as she began to panic when he thrusted harder back in. Frisk only now fully comprehending that he was source of her unforseen agony. Only realizing now, that she was being violated by an entirely different creature than her body was used to. Tears quickly puddled at the corners of her eyes as her screams came out muffled through the marrow of Sans cold palm. 

 

“Damn, I see why Paps likes fucking you”

 

Sans got down and whispered in her ear, wiping a tear from her cheek. “You have such a tight hole for a slut.” He thrusted deeper inside as she squealed beneath him. 

 

Frisk couldn't breathe. She could feel herself suffocating below his surprisingly heavy body weight. It was like she was quickly drowning in a sea of boiling water and all she could think about was fresh air. She needed him out of her, and she needed air and she needed it now.

 

_ What are you waiting for? Bite him. _

 

Frisk did the only logical thing she could think of, she bit down on his phalanx with as much force her tiny body would allow her to muster up at that moment. She then followed it with a few harsh thrashes to his face, trying to lift some of his weight. Trying to get him off of her.

**(**)**

 

With a sharp yelp, Sans removed his hand from her jaws. Rapidly flicking his wrist in an attempt to ease the pain. “Gahh! You little bitch!” He somehow didn’t manage to block  _ any _ of her sloppy blows.

 

_ Damn he was really losing his spunk _ .

 

Not that any of her punches hurt. Like hell he would ever admit that.  Sans raised his hand as he prepared to smack her back, only for the girl to let out a loud piercing cry. 

 

She only managed to scream for a few seconds before Sans had his hand around her mouth again, but those seconds were more than enough to alert his brother. 

 

The kid could surprisingly be  _ very _ loud when she was good and ready.

 

It was now Sans turn to panic. He knew Papyrus didn't like to share his “toys”, and even though his brother tried to convince them he was a changed man, Sans knew his jealous rage would get the best of him. By the end of the whole ordeal Sans would be surprised to walk away with his head still on his shoulders. 

 

The skeleton violently pulled out, causing more  groans to escape her lips, as he scrambled to get his shorts back on. His erection was still very much present, which did not help, but he had no time to try and calm down. He pulled Frisk's t-shirt down and shoved the blankets up to her chin before he slowly lifted his hand from her mouth. 

 

Placing a finger to her lips to shush her, he was surprised she didn’t scream again. “I'm only gonna tell you this once so listen close. If you say one word I swear to the star I will slit your throat and happily watch you choke on your own blood.” Sans said with a quiet stern voice.

 

_ What was up with him and slitting throats? _

 

Frisk felt like a deer in the headlights as she couldn't break eye contact with his hollow sockets. She slowly nodded through fat tears running down her cheeks as Sans laid back down next to her. She grasped her lips as she tried so very hard not to loudly sob. 

 

Papyrus’ footsteps creaked beyond the bedroom door as the knob wiggled lossily from the handle. The door swung open as a gush of cool air invaded all four corners of the mucky room.

 

“HUMAN, WHY ARE YOU IN DISMAY?” Papyrus shouted as his authoritative tone boomed throughout her ear lobes. Frisk didn't say a word as she continued to softly sob into the sheets, staining them with her wet thick tears.

 

Papyrus approached the bed. The dim lights making him more intimidating than he intended. The harsh shadows lumping over his brow bones caused his sockets to fade into the rest of his upper face. He looked like a thief in the night with a black mask. It wasn't helping he was so tall and lanky.  Frisk didn't know who she was more afraid of, but so far Papyrus was winning by a mile.

 

“Oh thank the stars. Now she can finally shut up-” Sans said as he wiped his eyes, yawned, then stretched. He wasn't even tired but he had to keep up the facade of just waking up.

 

“WHAT DID YOU DO SANS?” Papyrus squatted down, his long femurs pressed against the bed frame, his sleeves rolled up to his humerus, as he rested a comforting hand on the girl's forehead. He drew small invisible circles across her skin in a futile attempt to comfort her.

 

It wasn't comforting, though. In fact it made Frisk even more uneasy.

 

_ Bite him too. _

 

Sans sat up, trying his hardest to look confused. “ Why do you assume I have anything to do with this? All I know is one second she's sleeping and the next, screaming.” Sans lightly chuckled in a small attempt to lighten the mood.

 

For some reason the room felt darker and darker each passing second Papyrus didn't reply.  He was usually quick to interject, to cut Sans off, as it was a habit of his to get the last word out. Only Papyrus needed to be heard, and whatever anyone else had to say was irrelevant. 

 

Instead his brother was oddly so focused on her crying. His sharp features where frozen in place. His open button-up seemed to tighten up against his exposed ribcage. His fingers slowing their movements. Papyrus was staring at her so intensely that something quickly began to dawn on Sans. 

 

_ Did she usually cry like this after Papyrus got “done _ ”  _ with her? _

 

This thought was confirmed when his brother's orbital cavity grew even more dark. Sans was shocked that was even possible. Papyrus’ facial bone structure dropped, his breathing quickened, as he stopped moving completely. 

 

It was time for Sans to pull out that old book of lies. What would be a good one in this situation?

 

Frisk's sobbings picked up as she instantly recognized Papyrus’ expression. The tiny girl didn't know if she should stay there, let whatever happen, happen, or try to get up and get out. 

 

_ Getting out was an absolutely horrible idea _ .  _ What a quick way to get killed _ .

 

“I-I think she had a nightmare. Isn't that it, Frisk?” Sans tried his best to warmly smile at her but she refused to look in his direction. He was giving her a way out, so she better take it. Well it was a way out for him, but Sans swore that if he went down she would come with him.

 

Frisk better not mess this up.

 

“Is that really why you're crying?” Papyrus harshly whispered at her. Sans dropped his gaze in hopes to not draw anymore suspicion as they both awaited her answer. Frisk hiccupped through her tears but kept her eyes close. First mumbling a few incoherent words into the scumbled blanket. When Papyrus expressed slight confusion, she softy snuffled before letting out a very faint,

 

“ahh huh”

 

Papyrus didn't seem satisfied with her answer. He shifted his attention on the twitching body of his brother, eyes narrowing as his brow bone furrowed, somehow managing to look even more sunken in. Sans was vigorously scratching at his rib bones, avoiding any and all eye contact. A clear sign of guilt. It wasn't helping that all this adrenaline was keeping him rock hard.

 

“Sans-” Dammit. He needs more lies.

 

“Paps, I didn't do anything alright. The kid said she had a nightmare so just fucking believe her.” Sans sharply barked, trying to seem offended by the thought of his brother ever thinking he would lay a finger on his “precious” human. “if you don't believe me ask her yourself. I doubt she'd lie to you,” Sans crossed his arms as he secretly hoped Papyrus would just drop this whole situation and leave. He didn't want to deal with this anymore, and was now debating if he should've just left the dumb kid alone. 

 

_ Maybe not. It was worth it to see that look on her face. _

 

“Did he hurt you, Frisk? Please don't be afraid to tell the truth,” 

 

Frisk jumped at the sound of him saying her name. It felt so unnatural, so foreign. It didn't help that ninety-five percent of the time he referred to her as just “Human”. Well there were a few other times Papyrus called her by her name, but Frisk thought it best not to think of those times.

  
  


Sans held his breath. He knew she had no obligation to lie, and even though he did threaten her, the kid could've easily saw through him. He just gave her a perfect opportunity for revenge. 

 

Damn, what an utter idiot he was _. _

 

Talk about a problem coming back to bite you in the ass. Maybe he should consider thinking, and weighing the consequences before he acted upon the first thought that came to mind.

 

Frisk held her eyes shut as she took a deep breath. “No…..I had..a nightmare,” She quietly let out as Sans grinned in relief.

 

_ Ha! What a good bitch. _

 

Papyrus didn't budge as he kept a narrow fixed look on Sans. His brother always did manage to see right through him. It didn't matter how good Sans got at lying, Papyrus could smell the shit from a mile away.

 

“Why is your eye glowing like that?” 

Okay, so he was completely found out, but maybe not. It was just a question after all. There could be a million and one reasons for his eye to glow. All Sans had to do was play it casual and respond with one of those reasons. There were millions, right? 

 

So why couldn't he think of any.

 

“M-my eye? Oh uh...you know it does that sometimes.” Sans nervously rubbed the back of his neck. How could he forget about his eye? What a way to make things so blatantly obvious. And what kind of excuse was that? He was better off just confessing.

 

“No. No it doesn't, Sans. Not unless your using magic...” Papyrus slowly got to his feet, not moving his gaze an inch away from his smaller brother. “...and I took most of your magic away.” 

 

Those last few words hit Sans like a bullet to the chest. Everything grew so silent, you could hear a pin drop from the downstairs kitchen. Instinctively, the skeleton wanted to cover up the now noticeable bulge between his legs, but knew better than to draw attention towards it. He had to just keep playing it cool. Papyrus wouldn't pick up on his erection if he was distracted.

 

_ Sans couldn't find anything to distract him with. _

 

“My bodies been pretty jacked up lately. It..uh..does things I don't really want it to, and I just can't help it. You should know this, Paps, since you’re such an expert,” Sans tried to desperately explain, hoping his brother would blindly believe his lies. 

 

_ Like Papyrus was an expert at anything other than being a total asshole, what a joke _ .

 

“Remove your blanket.” Papyrus coldly commanded. Sans’ grin was quickly beginning to shrink as he tightened his grip on the thick fabric shielding him from exposure. “I don't think it's necessary-”

 

Sans knew he was making a big mistake. Surprisingly Papyrus wasn’t too aggressive before he started barking orders, but judging by his brother's sulk, he was damn near boiling over.

 

The lengthy Skeleton took a hold of the bedspread and tugged it off the two bodies lying there. It happened so fast it gave Sans little time to react. 

 

He didn't expect the evidence to be everywhere. Frisk's thighs and the bottom seams of her shirt were covered in fluorescent red cum, a dark fresh bruise throbbed on her flesh, and her panties were soaked. Obviously he  _ was _ found out. Now it was time for plan B. 

 

He needed to lie some more.

 

“Fuck. Wow… I mean h-how'd that happen-” 

 

Perfect response. Absolutely perfect. 

 

“Sans, I think we should have a talk.” Papyrus sighed. He didn't seem upset, well not completely, but the last thing Sans would ever want to do is have a “talk” after being revealed. For all he knew, “talk” was a code word for an ass beating. It would make the most sense since Papyrus never let’s stuff off the hook so easily.

 

If only he could teleport the fuck out of there. Fuck this stupid collar and fuck his brother for “handicapping” him. These days have really showed Sans just how much he's taken his magic for granted. Not to mention how big of a coward he was. This was all somehow Frisk's doing. She probably knew he would get tempted and try to fuck her. She probably planned this whole thing out.

 

_ God she was just too clever and evil. _

 

“No I don't want to talk-” Sans whined as he crossed his arms in defiance like a small child.

 

“Get up now. Let's go.” Papyrus grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of bed like it was nothing. Where on earth did he get all this strength from, and how could Sans get his hands on it? For all he knew, Papyrus didn't work out. But maybe he did. It's hard to tell when he lacks muscles. 

 

Sans scrambled to get to his feet as he was being lead towards the door. As usual, Papyrus was moving way too fast compared to what Sans was comfortable with. He tried to tug away but found his brother's grip was far too strong. 

 

“B-boss, let's just talk here. No need to leave” Papyrus stopped before letting go of him. His sockets were wide as he was about to blow up. 

 

“WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?” Papyrus quickly raised his voice, obviously offended. Sans took a few  steps back, not knowing what just set his brother off, but also not wanting to be at arms reach.

 

“C-call you what? I didn't say anything..” Sans was getting better at lying by the second. But he couldn't understand the sudden stigma behind the word “boss”. Wasn't this a form of flattery to his brother? 

 

Sans used to be forced to refer to him as such all the time. Not in this timeline but a very recent one. In fact, he could feel their relationship heading towards that direction. A horrible direction where Sans was the  _ pet _ , and Papyrus the  _ master _ . It wasn't so far fetched. 

 

His brother was cruel after all.

 

And no amount of convincing would ever change that. 

 

“YOU JUST CALLED ME BOSS?”

 

“I did. Uh..is that wrong?” Sans asked, suddenly not feeling afraid, but rather very curious. Papyrus looked lost for words as his features softened with confusion. 

 

“Well don't call me that-”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I'm not your boss, Sans. I'm your brother,” 

 

“I don't know...you can be pretty bossy at times,” Sans placed a finger to his chin as he pretended to be in deep thought. “Hmm...yeah you're definitely my boss-”

 

“I AM NOT! DO NOT REFER TO ME AS SUCH!” Papyrus yelled as he was getting more and more irritated.

 

“Why so offended, Boss? I'm just tryna show you the respect you deserve” Sans slyly taunted him. What a genius, he managed to distract his brother from the real issue here. 

 

_ Ha! Papyrus was such an idiot. _

 

“CALL ME THAT ONE MORE TIME AND I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL-”

 

“You'll do what? Abuse me again? Typical bossy behavior,” Sans’ grin happily returned as he crossed his arms with a smug look on his face. He was impressed with how easy this was turning out to be.

 

It grew quiet for a while. Sans was going to try to return to his room when Papyrus calmly sighed before warmly smiling back at Sans. He looked so understanding.

 

_ Understanding? What the hell was going on? _

 

“Oh, Sans you totally got me,” Papyrus gently let out a laugh as he put a comforting hand on Sans’ shoulder. “You can call me whatever you want just as long as it makes you feel better. Okay big brother?”

 

Not okay. 

 

Sans scoffed.

 

“Let's go have that talk.” Papyrus kept smiling. He kept fucking smiling at him as if everything would be alright. As if that smile could somehow solve all their problems. As if that smile could somehow change him, change his brother, change that dumb bitch that caused all of this. 

 

His brother didn't drag him by the collar this time. He didn't force him to move an inch from his current spot, yet Sans found himself obediently following him anyways. He knew Papyrus was trying to help but  his pride made it so hard for him to willingly accept it. Sans promised to do better yet he was making everything difficult, and for what?

 

“Fine. Whatever we can have this so called ’talk’ but I ain't saying a thing,”  

 

Papyrus kept walking. Whatever anger he might've been festering earlier completely evaporated. He was suddenly so nice, so pleasant, so out of character. 

 

_ Should Sans be worried? _

 

“That's alright my dearest brother. You can just sit and listen.”


	9. Mother's Phone Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was bored last night so I quickly wrote up this chapter. I may just stick with shorter chapters since they take less time to produce and are easier to write. Hmm maybe. 
> 
> ┐(￣ヮ￣)┌

Frisk gently stepped down from the messy bed. The cold floorboards caused shivers to run up her body when her small toes made contact with it. The room was so quiet. So very quiet. So quiet  she wasn't even sure Papyrus and Sans were still in the house. They disappeared completely after their argument in the hallway. Leaving her slightly distraught and feeling awful.

 

Frisk wasn't complaining, though. 

  
  


If anything she was happy to get another moment of peace in the same exact day, or around the same day. She couldn't tell what time it was, but assumed it must be very early in the morning.  Not to mention how good it felt not to have a heavy chain weighing her down and anchoring her to a wall. It did feel good to actually wake up somewhere different for once. Even if that somewhere was still in the house.

 

The more Frisk suffered through abuse, the more she became distant, cold, towards it. Like she cried enough tears for a lifetime and now didn't have any left. Like her body just wasn't registering the pain anymore. Like she wasn't experiencing it. Like this was all a dream, but she knew better.

 

There was no need trying to convince herself otherwise.

 

Frisk just wanted to go, and thinking about the possibility of never seeing her family again made her so tired. She just couldn't do it anymore. All the fight inside her was all used up and now she was left, empty. 

 

Empty and exhausted. 

 

Yet despite her lack of motivation and her body begging to get back in bed and just sleep the day away, her mind was pushing her forward. Chara was pushing her forward, telling her not to give up, promising a light at the end of the tunnel. Frisk didn't believe it, she didn't want to believe it, but she couldn't stop now. 

 

_ Just a little more and it will be over. _

 

Frisk struggled to get on her feet. She felt so sore, so weak, that her legs barely wanted to cooperate. Where would she go? How would she even leave? The window was tightly shut, and if she did somehow get it open, she was located on the second floor. Even if she did manage to make it out Papyrus would instantly know and find her. Yesterday was an obvious example of that, as it took Papyrus only minutes to know exactly where his brother ran off to. 

 

Sans was his brother after all, so of course he dragged him back carefully. But what would he do with her? Would he be as nice? Would carry Frisk gently through that door and tell her that everything would be alright and that he'll take care of it, like he did with Sans? Frisk doubted it.

 

And even if he did do all of the above, it wouldn't make a difference. Everything wouldn't be alright. It would never be, as long as she was trapped in this house. 

 

_ How to get out? How to go home? _

 

The little girl held her hand to her head as she desperately tried to think. She tried so hard to come up with something--anything. She tried to think of a safe escape route but there didn't seem to be any. Not while the collar was around her neck. How would she ever take this thing off without any magic?

 

Inspecting the leather around her neck, Frisk felt around for a buckle, straps, anything that could be used to pry the thing open. There didn't seem to be any. Surprisingly the collar was smooth all the way around with no dents or separations of any kind. How did he possibly get this on her? It was too small to just slip over the head and definitely too tough to just pull off. Despite all that Frisk kept trying. 

 

She was determined. 

 

Taking a deep breath, Frisk tugged and tugged and tugged at the collar. She used all her strength in each pull, really trying to find a weak spot, but it would not budge. She refused to give up as she kept it up, kept trying to free herself, until her neck started to redden and the pain became too unbearable to handle. While letting out a soft cry, Frisk fell down on a pile of clothes with a loud  _ thud _ .

 

She didn't care anymore. She didn't care if Papyrus or Sans heard her. She didn't care if they found her laying there and not in bed. She didn't care if they decided to hurt her for it. 

 

The little girl listened in to the howling of the wind. She focused on the ambient noise of the world outside. The soft chattering in the distance. The far away hum of a heater. The faint puffs of her own inhales. If only she could freeze time and stay there forever. 

 

Just as Frisk was going to close her eyes in defeat, Doomfanger jumped down from a high shelf, landing on Frisk stomach and bring down a little notebook with her. Frisk jumped as the four paws made impact with her belly. She almost gasped in agony but quickly bit her tongue. She couldn't imagine how loud she was already being. It was a surprise no one came up to check on her.

 

The cat meowed as she attempted to get comfortable on the girl’s belly. Tail repeatedly flicking her in the face and nearly making Frisk sneeze. She was going to shoo her away only to feel oddly comforted by the feline. The warmth coming from the cat felt like a snuggly blanket and the deep purring oddly felt so soothing. This creature was the only one that didn't hurt her in this cruel house. 

 

But why was Doomfanger so interested in her suddenly? Frisk saw the cat every now and then while in the cell, but the feline never once approached her. She would somehow manage to find a way to get into the tiny room, and then would simply sit and watch in a far off corner. Sometimes Doomfanger would fall sleep and sometimes she would be occupied with something too small for Frisk to see. Never getting too close and never staying more than a couple of minutes. 

 

Doomfanger looked at Frisk. She stared her in the eyes in such a strange, almost sentient, sort of way. Frisk stared back. Looking deep into the pools of her slit pupils. Doomfanger turned her head as she looked at something in the distance, then back Frisk, and then in the distance again. Frisk was now curious. She focused her attention towards the direction of the cat's head. She wouldn't be trying to tell her something, would she? Could a cat even do that? 

 

Frisk hesitantly took a good look at the ground next to her.

 

Almost as if the moon was purposely shining a spotlight through the window, an open notebook glimmered against Frisk’s eye. It was almost like something out of a movie. Was this what Doomfanger was looking at? 

 

_ We should read it. _

 

Slowly getting on all fours, the little girl crawled towards the book. She usually had a hard time in this position because of the heavy weight of her stomach, but Frisk was willing to let it slightly drag below her just as long as it kept herself quiet. The last thing she needed was to make any unnecessary noise. 

 

Frisk crept closer to the book. She wasn't sure what was in it, or if it would help her in anyway, but Doomfanger obviously wanted her to see it for a reason. She just hoped it was a good reason. Maybe it was a map of the house or some secret spell she could use to abracadabra out of there.

 

Delicately picking it up from the floor, Frisk cautiously inspected the pages. There wasn't much throughout besides sloppy doodles and illegible writings. The little girl frowned realizing all this effort just might be in vain. Just as she was going to close the notebook something caught her eye. Frisk kept flipping through the pages until she got to a torn sheet of paper slightly hanging out. She grabbed it and read it aloud,

 

“XXX-520-1738….Toriel,” 

 

It was a number written lopsided on the edge of the sheet with the name sloppy scribbled underneath it. That name seemed familiar. Too familiar.

 

_ Call it! Call it now!  _

 

Frisk looked around the room for a phone. She wasn't even sure Sans had a telephone in his room, but it would be too risky to search anywhere else in the house for one. This might be her chance, she just needed a phone. 

 

The little girl frantically went around the cluttered room moving garbage and lifting clothes off the floor. She searched in, on, and around his dresser. Inside the closet. Behind his mirror. Under the pillows and bed. Every surface, corner, and tiny space.

 

_ Nothing _ . There was so no phone in sight. 

 

She was so close. So close to freedom. Why did nothing seem to ever go right? 

 

Frisk couldn't help herself from breaking down and crying all over again. She loudly bawled into her palms. Straining her eyes and soring her throat as she softly wailed, drenching her small hands in tears. 

 

She wasn't even asking for much. All she wanted was to go home. She just wanted to go home, to not have to suffer anymore, to feel safe again. 

 

Doomfanger rubbed her furry head against Frisk shoulder as she meowed. Frisk felt slightly better knowing the feline wanted to comfort her but she refused to stop crying. The girl kept her head buried as she continued her sobbing. Doomfanger meowed louder as she now brushed her fuzzy tail on Frisk forehead. Obviously the kitty wanted attention. Frisk paused her crying as she looked up at the cream cat. 

 

Almost as if Doomfanger had been her guardian angel the whole time, in the jaws of the small feline sat a black device. Frisk couldn't believe it. She wasn't even sure it was what she thought it was. Slowly touching the plastic of the thing in the cat’s jaws, Frisk almost jumped with joy. She grabbed the cat and held her in a tight embrace, pushing her against her belly as she snuggled the feline.

 

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She happily repeated over and over again. She couldn't believe this. This couldn't possibly be happening.

 

Frisk could see her finally leaving this house, finally leaving the Underground, as she returned to the world above. As she returned to her world and her normal life. She could see her neighborhood. She could see her house. She could see the faces of her family again. 

 

_ Stop wasting time. Call her. _

 

Frisk gently put the cat down before tiptoeing towards Sans closet with his cell phone in hand. She needed to remember to stay quiet. Closing the door as much as it will allow, since majority of it was filled with more junk, Frisk sat down and turned the phone on. To her surprise there was no password required.

 

But the phone was odd. None of the font was in English. Not that Frisk knows much about foreign languages, but the characters looked more alien compared to anything found on earth. She didn't even attempt to read any of it, instead focusing on the app icons. They were also confusing. What kind of phone was this? Everything about it felt so strange.

 

_ Try opening all the apps _ .

 

Frisk quickly clicked on every icon on his home screen, desperately hoping they wouldn't open anything more odd, or worse. Alert Sans. She wasn't even sure it could do that, but it's good to think about every possibility. 

 

Better safe than sorry.

 

How did Doomfanger get his phone anyways? How did she know this wasn't a trap? This could very much be a trap. It would explain why the cat was so helpful all of a sudden.

 

The phone froze, staying on a blank black screen, before a keyboard popped up and numbers were displayed. She found the app. And she could read the numbers. It was all now a matter of punching in Toriel's phone number and she would be free, but as Frisk sat there she began to wonder. How could she guarantee Toriel would help her? 

 

What if she was just as worse as the monsters that kept her captive all these months? What if Toriel tried to kill her? Or what if she told Papyrus about this phone call. Would he be upset? If course he would. Maybe Frisk should just try to find another way out. There was no point in taking this chance.

 

Just as she was about to put the phone down, she suddenly lost all control of her fingers. Her hands were moving without her consent as the they quickly began to dial,

 

X..X..X..5..2..0..

 

“Stop it, Chara” Frisk yelled as she tried to regain control of her body. She was quickly be pushed back into the  darkness of her mind as her vision began to fade. This was horrible. Chara could only take over if Frisk allowed it. 

 

Frisk did not want this.

 

She didn't like being controlled like a puppet. Chara was overstepping her boundaries. Frisk tried to fight her, she tried to fight back, but found that Chara was far too strong. 

 

She was going to ruin everything. They couldn't trust Toriel. They couldn't trust anyone Underground. Chara was risking their lives. Frisk wanted to scream. She wanted to stop her. She needed to stop her before something very bad happened, but the little girl was quickly falling into the abyss of unconsciousness. 

 

“I'm sorry, Frisk. We need to do this.”

 

Chara placed the phone to her ear as she listened in on the dial tone. She had to admit that she also wasn't sure how this would turn out. It had been a long time since she last saw Toriel. It was like she completely disappeared during these last few resets. 

 

There was a chance she was dead.

 

This might just be a waste of time. Chara's eyes began to water as she realized this very real outcome. There might not be a way out. Maybe this was it. Maybe she just had to suffer through the abuse. Karma was catching up to her and she selfishly brought Frisk along. If only she could turn back the hands of time. 

 

“Hello?” The voice was so soft, so sweet, so unbelievable, that Chara couldn't contain herself. She started crying. Crying like an infant. Crying against the phone in her palms.

 

“Who is this?-” The voice was slightly shaky. It sounded very unsure. Very nervous. It didn't feel like Toriel, but Chara couldn't stop now. 

 

“M-mommy” She finally managed to say through tears. She couldn't even guarantee Toriel knew Frisk was in this timeline. Toriel could very much still be queen for all she knew. Maybe Chara was also somehow alive in this reset.

 

_ Could there be two? _

 

“Chara? Is that you? Oh god..oh god I knew you would come back to me,” Chara could hear the absolute joy in the monster's voice on the other line. Her tears dried up as she let out a soft laugh. Maybe she was wrong. 

 

This was the Toriel she was used to. 

 

“Yes its me, mommy” 

  
  
  


The little girl then spent the next twenty minutes telling her mother everything. Absolutely everything. From her first encounter with Papyrus to the assault not even an hour ago. She described all the horrors she was forced to suffer through. She told her about her bloated stomach and when she did Toriel grew strangely quiet before asking her questions. Very confusing questions. Very uncomfortable questions that Chara honestly didn't know how to answer. 

 

After a while they both fell silent just listening to each other's breathing. 

 

_ What now? _

 

“Chara, I haven't left the house in so long...I'm so very scared of what's beyond my front door t-that i just panic thinking about it,” Toriel said nervously against her ear. 

 

Chara could understand. If she was in the goat monster's shoes she doubted she would leave the house too. It was dumb of her to waste valuable time she barely had on this dumb phone call. What other plans did she have for escape? 

 

Absolutely nothing. 

 

Sleep suddenly sounded so good. So sweet. So comforting. Chara eyed the empty bed from the closet. She could dream her life away. It wasn't that bad of an idea and it was so easy to do. 

 

“But I'm willing to come get you...I'll protect you this time, I p-promise. I'll be there if its the last thing I do.” 

 

Chara dropped the phone in her hands when she heard the front door slam shut.

 

“C-chara? Can you hear me,”

 

Sans was standing right outside the bedroom.

 


	10. Bottles & Bottles of Distraught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans just keeps fucking up...  
> -_-

The ceiling lights burned brightly throughout the laboratory. The white glow covered every corner of the large room, blazing like the desert sun. It was distracting but not enough to take attention away from the thrashing machine that Father was persistently pushing Sans towards. 

 

He stared at it in fear.

 

This thing, this massive thing, roared at him like a hungry beast. Rumbling and vibrating the tilted floor beneath his shaking feet. It demanded his full attention, it screamed for it, screamed painfully against  the drums of his ears that he had no choice but to cover them.

 

What was this awful machine and what was about to happen to him?

Sans desperately tried to pull away from Father’s grips. He tried to anchor his feet to the cold ground, putting as much weight to his femurs as his body deemed possible in order to prevent himself from moving another inch. It was all in vain as Father was far stronger than the smaller skeleton, being able to easily shove him forward. 

 

The scientist didn't even seem phased by his son’s scratching and screaming. Sans was now carrying on like a maniac as he kept up his futile attempt at escape, but Father kept moving forward. He was so very focused on reaching that machine, on doing whatever it was he was going to do. He didn't stop for a minute. He barely said a word. He just kept pushing forward.

 

“No! Please stop.. I don’t wanna go!” Sans yelled at the top of his lung half hoping that someone would burst through the lab doors and save him. As if that was ever a possibility considering it was only ever Father who occupied this work space. Sans never had the fortune of seeing anyone else walk through the catacombs of the long halls. He never got that blissful chance of seeing another living creature besides Father and his brother. So some stranger coming to his rescue was so far fetched that it was nearly laughable. 

 

He didn't want to laugh right now, though. He wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else but there, about to meet his inevitable doom.

 

The thought of dying now, so young, was terrifying. He didn't want to die. He really didn't want to die. He didn't want to die by the hands of Father, and he didn't want to leave Papyrus behind. He couldn't just leave his brother not when Sans was all he really had. There had to be a way out. 

 

There was always a way out.

 

Sans threw himself on the ground. He released all of the weight and pressure he previously exhausted as he collapsed so suddenly that Father nearly tripped over him. 

 

“Goddammit!” Father cursed as he lost his footing for a moment and let go of Sans. 

 

The smaller skeleton took this as a chance to make a break for it as he quickly got to his feet and bolted for the door. Realizing what Sans was doing, Father called out for him. 

 

“Fuck, get back over here now!” He yelled before following after the running child. Sans knew it wouldn't take long for Father to catch up so he ran for the huge glass cabinet instead of the obvious exit. He rapidly got down and squeezed himself between the tight space of the cabinet and the wall. 

 

“You little bastard. You exist only to make my life so fucking miserable! Do you know what I had to do, what I had to fucking sacrifice, to create you vermin. Do you know how bloody hard it is to find a good human corpse in this godforsaken shit hole!” Father harshly barked as he desperately tried to fit his body through the small gap to get to Sans. 

 

Sans’ eyes started watering as Father continued his hateful rant. 

 

“All I bloody want is for my work to finally pay off. It's been 8 motherfucking year! 8 years of my life wasted! You two ruined me. You ruined a lifetime of scientific genius that will NOT appear again for at least another millennium. What a wretched shame! But if I'm going down lord help me if I don't go down with a fucking bang! ” 

 

Father grabbed a hold of Sans’ leg as he attempted to drag the little monster towards him. He dug his claws into his marrow so viciously that it caused a deafening yelp to escape the skeletons jaws. Sans, through petrified tears, retaliated by slamming Father's slender phalanges against the floor. 

 

“If you don't come out fucking now I swear to god I will make you snort the remains of that mentally defective shit stain as I rape you to death! Do you want that, Sans? Do you want to sniff up the dust of your little brother?” 

 

Sans bawled as he quickly shook his head “no”. He didn't want to come out, it was the absolute last thing he wanted to do at that moment, but he knew Father meant every word he said. He knew he wouldn't hesitate to kill Papyrus. He knew he would eventually pull this cabinet from the wall and harm him. He still needed to protect his little brother.

 

Even if he was going to die.

  
  


Father lent out his hand. Sans hesitantly took it. The small monster was violently pulled from  his place of refuge, and flung on the floor like a cheap piece of clothing. Father smacked him hard across the face before pulling him up by his collar so their eyes met and Sans legs were left dangling in mid air.

 

He could smell the alcohol on Father's breath.

 

“Don't fucking do that again.” He spat coldly before dropping his terrified son and dragging him back towards the raging machine.

 

It was huge and menacing. Similar to Father, but unlike Father, Sans knew this machine could easily swallow him whole. It could decimate his entire existence in a matter of milliseconds, and he knew it. He knew it was about to be the worst pain he would ever experience in his short life. 

 

It had to be the secret Father had spent months working on. A torture machine just for his prize pupil. He was his prize pupil after all, right? Father used to say it all the time. He used to be nice at times. He used to be proud of him. He used to have some semblance of joy when he saw him, but now Father was nothing more than crazy, and all he ever wanted to do was causing them agony.

 

“It's time to see what's outside of the confinements of this world, Sans. It's time to transcend this physical state that is holding us back from achieving...achieving plain greatness.” 

 

Father paused before lifting Sans up on the shaking steps that lead to the mouth of this beast of a machine. Sans tried to get one last look behind him only for his vision to be blocked by the towering body of his Father as he stood millimeters from him. 

 

“Are you ready Sans?”

 

Was he ready? Sans didn't know. He didn't think he was but what difference would that make. Sans took in a deep breath and closed his sockets as he prepared for the very last seconds of his life. He thought about his brother and all he's done to him, all the things he was forced to participate in. He wanted nothing more than to apologize. He wanted to make it up to him. He wanted to see the world outside of the lab. He wanted to meet new people. He wanted to learn new things. He wanted to live life.  

 

_ Sans didn't want to die _ . 

 

Just as Father picked him up in his arms again Sans cried into his shoulders. He felt pressure building up inside him as he thought about living, as he begged god not to let him die. He just wanted to live. 

 

He wanted to live. 

 

“Its okay. It'll be over soon.” 

 

.

.

.

 

_ Father jumped. _

 

.

.

.

 

_ Sans held his breath. _

 

.

.

.

 

In a last minute panic, the small monster opened his eyes. He gasped desperately for air as he held his throat. He was covered in a cold sweat as he noticed he sat in the middle of the lab on the same cold vibrating floor. 

 

Somehow he was no longer in Father's arms. Somehow he felt light headed, with ringing in his ears, as he stared at the floating sparks of red radiating off his little body. Somehow he managed to get all the way over here, unscathed. 

 

Somehow he was still alive.

  
  


And Father was gone. He was actually gone. He was actually dead, and Sans came out of that in one piece, and it was so easy. It was so very easy. He didn't have to fear getting hurt anymore. Papyrus didn't have to fear getting hurt anymore.

  
  


And Sans couldn't help but laugh.

  
  
  


{~}

  
  
  


Sans sat there staring at his shaking hands. It had been a good ten minutes since anything was said and the silence was really starting to get to him. It wasn't helping that Papyrus was literally watching him inches from his face. 

 

Papyrus’ warm steady breath brushing against his bones. His eyes focused on nothing in particular but trying sloppily not to make uncomfortable contact with Sans’ sockets. Hands tangled and arms resting on his open knees. He was slouching forward which almost made Sans smile considering Papyrus would be damned before he was caught with any form of bad posture. 

 

_ They were both already damned. _

 

It also didn't help that his brother decided to take a seat on their coffee table rather than next to him on the couch, or on the lounge chair on the opposite end of the room. Perhaps it helped this whole situation feel more like an intervention. 

 

Sans felt like he was about to get integrated by the royal guard. He felt like one of those low-lifes that usually get picked up from some street corner or back alley.

 

He felt like himself. 

 

His normal scummy addict self. All that was missing were a pair of handcuffs and one of those blinding lights to obscure his view. 

 

Or maybe not.

 

_ Papyrus was a blinding light already. _

 

Why was this starting to get even more and more uncomfortable? Could they just get this over with already? Sans was tempted to say something but he knew he couldn't, not after he said he wouldn't say a word. 

 

But then again, Sans never once kept his promises. He was just a plain piece of shit that couldn't keep up his own will being. If he was Papyrus he would've gotten rid of him a long time ago. Why bother with such filthy trash. Why bother with someone that just bought you done to such a despicable level. 

 

Papyrus cleared his throat.

 

“So Sans, there is a lot I want to say to you--a lot I want to get off my chest,” His brother paused before rolling his sleeves down. “I just don't know exactly how to do it. Can you believe that...” Papyrus chuckled.

 

That chuckle was a perfect blend of a low rumble and a high pitched serenade that Sans was so unfamiliar with. It was beautiful to his eardrums, and the skeleton wished nothing more then to have gotten an opportunity to record it. Would it be weird to ask him to laugh like that again?

 

“I've been over this moment a thousand times in my head, yet I'm still so very nervous,” Papyrus looked him in the sockets for a moment before breaking contact and eyeing the floorboards instead. He was nervous. He was actually nervous about talking to him. It wouldn't be the first time, but for some reason right now it felt different. It made his soul skip a beat.

 

This was getting awkward. 

 

Sans decided to break his silent treatment. There was no need in being a dumb dickhead.

 

“Yeah well you know I did apologize yesterday morning,” Sans started picking at his ribs. He didn't know why it brought him such great comfort, but it oddly felt pleasant exploring all  the uneven crevices and rubbing a bony finger against the broken pieces.

 

“I can do it again if that's what you want,” He quickly caught himself, realizing that so called  _ ‘apology’ _ was anything but. Hopefully Papyrus wasn't still upset about it. “...and I mean seriously this time.” He quickly added.

 

Sans should just apologize. There was no need in asking if he should, it just made him look so much worse. It made him look so ingenuine. He did feel bad about it, right? He did feel bad about it. He had to feel bad about it.

 

“I know I can be a total-”

 

“No you have to hear what I have to say first.” Papyrus took a deep breath, crossed his arms, before he leaned back against the coffee table. His small eye lights pierced the black of his orbital cavity. Tiny beams of fluorescent sweat lightly dripped from his skull. His blemish free ulna and radius contrasted so well with his dark button down.  Perfect facial structure. Where did he get his cheekbones and why wasn't Sans blessed with them? Why did he end up with all the bad genetics from both Father and whoever was used for their egg donor and incubator?

 

Sans couldn't look away from Papyrus. His bone structure looked godly from his angle. He was just too perfect. Too handsome.

 

Why was his brother the epiphany of everything impeccable. 

“I have gone years despising you-- I just couldn't get over what you did to me. I've stayed up late at nights, unable to sleep because I was haunted with just…everything… I-i blamed myself, I still do,”  Papyrus turned his head as he avoided his brother's gaze. He looked like he was on the verge of tears. Even with his big lengthy structure, Papyrus looked like he was about to break down and cry like a newborn.

 

Why was that thought so appealing to Sans.

  
  


He was mesmerized by his brother. He nearly burst when Papyrus anxiously licked his upper row of teeth, as he shifted in his seat, and crossed his legs. Sans could feel that erection slowly creeping back towards him. 

 

“Look I forgive you, Sans. I honestly do, but you have to stop… What you did to Frisk was absolutely deplorable. And if I am going to be one hundred percent honest with you, it's taking every ounce of my being to stop myself from tearing you apart-” Papyrus had a gentle smile on his skull that slightly twitched as he struggled with saying that last sentence.

 

Sans gulped. 

 

“Paps, I need to admit something to you” Sans had been hiding his feelings in for forever. He needed to let it all out. This might be the absolute worst time to do it but fuck it. If he didn't say it now he would never get it out. He had gone too long holding in his true emotions--his attraction, towards his brother. Sans couldn't even remember when he first started feeling this way, but it had to be more than several timelines back. Serval long boring timelines. Timelines were things were normal and not jacked up. This was different. This one would be different. This one  _ was _ different. He was going to do it. He was going to confess.

 

“I-i love you-” He blurred out like a dumb little school girl. How embarrassing, but there was no going back now. 

 

“I love you too, Sans, but I really need you to listen to me. I need you to apologize to Frisk and I need you to never even think about doing that ever again,” Papyrus warmly smiled at him some more, this time without the slight twitch. 

 

Sans took another gulp. 

 

“That ain't what I meant...I mean ‘ _ I love you’  _ love you. I never… I've never felt this way about anyone before...or anything or I don't know. I'm fucking going crazy with my mixed emotions and trust me I know I'm low down trash but dammit, Paps. Dammit if I don't want you more than life itself. I want… I bloody need you as much as a fish needs water. A-and I know I sound so motherfucking cheesy, heh...but it's true. I'll get off the drugs for you...I mean it this time,” Sans said nervously. He picked more viciously at his ribcage. The atmosphere was starting to feel more and more uneasy. Papyrus was quiet for a moment.

 

“No you don't. Sans, you don't mean that. You don't really want me-” He unintentionally whispered. It was oddly chilling.

 

“Actually I do. I honestly do. I meant everything I said and… I can prove it too. I can prove it if you want me to.” Sans balled his fists around his rib bone. What was he saying? What the hell was he doing? What was he about to do? 

 

Oh god this was going to be a disaster.

 

“Anyways, let's get back to my previous statement,” Papyrus held a hand out to silence him. Now looking slightly annoyed. 

 

_ Annoyed _ but not  _ disturbed _ .

 

Sans took this as an invitation, foolishly so. Before Papyrus could even react, Sans planted his lips against his brother's, both gold teeth clinking like a pair of champagne glasses. Sans nervously closed his eyes and prepared for him to pull back and strike him in the face or something. He expected Papyrus to push him off but oddly none of that happened. Nothing happened. 

 

**(**)**

Sans took this as a sign to move further as he slipped his tongue through Papyrus's jaws. Licking and exploring the inside of his brother's mouth and being surprised that a tongue materialized to play with his own. Except it wasn't really interacting with Sans’ magical muscle, it just sat there, still as ever.

 

The smaller skeleton pulled back and looked his younger brother in the face.

 

“Hey, Paps I didn't mean...I just...I’m really sorry, but that was so amazing,” Sans gently grabbed a hold of his brother's hand, smiling at how warm it felt. His bones were so smooth, they felt so nice, so sturdy. Papyrus  _ couldn't _ be real. He just couldn't.

 

“Do you feel the same way? The same way about me?” Sans held his breath as he awaited the answer. He was surprised Papyrus was so calm about this. Which was a good thing, right? He felt like it could mean there were a small chance of their feelings being mutual. Maybe a relationship could blossom despite all the taboos.

 

But as Sans looked more deeply at his brother's expression he noticed just how odd it was. How cold. How distant. How robotic, maybe. Or maybe it was just unresponsive. It was almost like there was noone home behind the now blackened sockets. 

 

“Papyrus? Hey I -” Sans waved his hand in front of Papyrus’ face. He hoped he would get a few blinks at the very least, but it was still nothing.

 

Just like the scum he was, Sans thought about making more love-filled contact. He knew maybe he shouldn't, but Papyrus wasn't resisting so for all he knew he liked it. Papyrus wanted it. He wanted Sans to kiss. He wanted Sans to touch him. 

 

So he would for the sake of his little brother. 

 

Sans kissed him again but this time more passionately. This time he got very close to him. This time he put his all into it as his hands slowly crept down towards Papyrus’ belt. He tugged at the buckle as he kept his lips pressed harshly against Papyrus. Tongue slobbering all over his teeth, fluorescent liquid painting his white bone a glowing crimson. Sucking on his tongue like it was sweetest thing he's ever tasted. 

 

Sans pulled away again to catch his breath. 

 

“You want me to make you feel good, Paps?” 

 

Papyrus  still didn't respond as he sat there like a statue. Sans couldn't remember if he's ever seen his brother like this. He didn't know what was happening but he really hoped that maybe Papyrus was just being shy. 

 

_ Papyrus shy? Ha. That was so laughable. _

 

Sans undid his little brother's belt and zipped his fly down. He wasn't really expecting anything to be there, he wasn't expecting much, but was pleasantly surprised when a soft member started to shape right in front of his eyes. Sans smiled. This was an obvious indication that Papyrus wanted this, otherwise he wouldn't let this continue to happen. He wouldn't be so cooperative. He wouldn't make a dick for him to play with. 

 

Sans opened his mouth as he grabbed a hold of his brother's limp penis. As soon as his tongue made the slightest contact with the ecto flesh, it was like Papyrus was snapped back to life as he quickly pushed Sans away and stood up. He frantically tried to get his belt done up again. 

**(**)**

 

The taller skeleton was breathing heavily, with his hands covering his face, as he turned away from his older brother. Sans could see he was shaking.

 

This was horrible. What a way to make a situation so much worse.

 

“I'm sorry, Paps. I thought you wanted it,” Sans tried to explain as he put a comforting hand on his back. Papyrus didn't pull away, but now Sans could feel that his shaking was much worse than what it appeared. He also heard his brother's faint sobbing. The very quiet sniffles and broken inhales that Papyrus was trying very hard to hold back. He was trying not to come off as bothered, as phased by what just happened, as weak, but it was obvious that his body cared little about that. The tears came flowing, as silent as they were. 

  
  


“Sans, you're my brother,” The taller skeleton finally said after a very long painful pause. 

 

“Yeah I..I know, Paps-” 

 

“Then why'd you do that to me. Why did you do that after everything I just told you. I thought you changed. I thought you were sorry-” 

 

_ He did change _ . 

 

He usually would never do this. If this was another timeline Sans wouldn't even think to kiss him, to touch him, to be with him. But now Sans demanded to know if every Papyrus he came across remembered  _ certain _ events.  If every Papyrus saw him the exact same way he saw their Father. Was he secretly scared of Sans all this time. Was that the reason for his heavy strive for power, for absolute control over everything and everyone in his life. Was it the result of the few bad Papyruses that would, in fact, take it a step too far. Much further than he's ever gone now. 

 

Hell Sans often pushed a lot of his past to the back of a wasteland he called a brain. He just hoped his little brother did the same.

 

“I am, I swear I am, I just thought you wanted it...you didn't try to stop me. You didn't pull away or say anything, and your...your magic,” 

 

“I think I'm just so goddamn fucked up...I don't know why...I don't... I just froze. I thought you were...I thought you were-”

 

He didn't even have to finish that sentence. Sans already knew who he was referencing and that just made him increasing angry. It was a blatant insult to compare him to that nameless freak. Sans was a lot of things. He was a lot of very bad things, but he was nothing like him. 

 

_ He was nothing like his Father.  _

 

“I'm not him, Papyrus. Look I did it because you didn't fucking stop me. If you… If you did then I would've only kissed you that first time,” That made sense. It made so much sense and anyone else in his situation would've easily thought the same. It wasn't Sans fault.

  
  


There was more silence.

 

Sans stared at the hand resting on his brother's spine, he studied it. This wasn't the Papyrus he was used to seeing. The Papyrus he was used to being around. And yeah he might've thought this very way, he said these exact words, before but it was becoming both agonizing and sickeningly enjoyable every time something new happened. 

 

Sans couldn't decide if he should try to revert everything to the way it was before or keep pushing forward in morbid curiosity of what  _ could _ happen next. He wanted to know how his brother would respond under more pressure. He wanted to know if he was close to cracking, or perhaps he already did crack and right now Sans was dealing with the scattered personalities of a tormented soul.  Maybe there was no  _ one _ Papyrus in that brain of his. Maybe he was living a lie all these years. Maybe that was alright, and just maybe he could use that to his advantage. 

 

But why keep taking advantage of his brother, the guy he claimed to care about? The guy he claimed to love. Why would his mind ever let him find any pleasure in seeing Papyrus in such a fragile state. He was torn and conflicted and now just plain frustrated. 

 

“Y-you can use me, punish me for what I did. I would happily be treated like your pet just as long as it makes you feel better...just as long as I can be with you,” Sans lightly whispered, not exactly intending it to come out so silently.

 

He knew Papyrus had it in him. He knew that being used by him wouldn't be anything new. It happened before. It happened recently in another timeline, and if that Papyrus could easily chain him up like a dog and beat him an inch from his life, then this one could too.

 

“We've done things before, don't you remember? I mean didn't it feel good? Like...I'm much better than that kid--that bitch, and I promise I won't put up a struggle,” 

 

Sans inhaled as he shakingly said. “I'll make you feel good, Paps. I'll make you like it...I swear I'll make it worth your while-”

 

The phone suddenly rang.

 

It echoed throughout the living, throughout the halls, throughout the house. It was so loud yet Sans wasn't even sure if it was real. He didn't know if it was actually the phone or just the ringing in his head. 

 

Papyrus answered it. He didn't say anything to the creature on the other end but Sans could hear their faint mumbling. After a minute of standing there and just listening, his brother finally said. 

 

“Alright I can meet you there now.” 

 

And then he simply hung up. And Sans was going to ask who that possibly could be at this time in the morning and why would they ever want to meet him now, but he decided against it. It wasn't like Papyrus would tell him anyways and even if he did, would sans want to hear it? It could just be his work, he often did get off duty calls, or people calling their line directly rather than the obvious emergency number. Why? Who knows. It wasn't like Papyrus could provide much of a protection against anything considering he was usually seen as a much bigger threat. 

 

Papyrus sighed, and if a switch was pulled in his mind, he turned around with that familiar look in his face as he gave a half hearted smile. 

 

“SANS I MEANT WHAT I SAID EARLIER. YOU BETTER APOLOGIZE TO THE HUMAN OR SO HELP ME GOD,” 

 

The tall skeleton exclaimed as he approached his brother and gently rubbed the top of his head. Sans didn't move. He got it. He understood what was happening. They were going to play it off. Act like everything that just happened, didn't. He could play this game. He would happily play along. 

 

Sans tried to grin that same sick grin he always wore, but found it suddenly so difficult. It was as if his face did not want to follow the basic commands his brain was giving it. 

 

So Sans didn't grin. He didn't smirk or smile. Instead he kept that same flat expression plastered on his skull.

 

“Yeah, Paps. Of course.” 

 

Papyrus lifted his hand from his brother's head as he made his way to the front door. Sans instantly missed their contact. He missed his warmth. He missed the taste of his lips. 

 

“I WON'T BE LONG. YOU'LL HANDLE THINGS WHILE I'M GONE, WON'T YOU?”

 

Papyrus glanced at him one last time. Sans didn't glance back. He felt the chilled air invade the circumference of the room as the door was slowly pulled opened. Sans shoved his hands in his pockets as he dragged his feet towards the steps. 

 

All he wanted to do now was get back in bed and sleep this whole thing way. He just wanted to forget this ever happened. He wanted to forget their conversation and Papyrus’ face. He wanted to forget it all. Except for the way it felt to explore inside those perfect rows of teeth, and the amazing look and feel of his brother's dick. 

 

“Yeah, Paps. Of course.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just curious...but do people usually perfer longer or shorter chapters? The next one so far is turning out to be 5,000+ words and counting and i’m not sure if i should split it in two seperate chapters or leave it as one?? .--.
> 
> Either way my goal is to get it posted at least by wednesday.


	11. Bottles & Bottles of Disconnection I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to split this chapter in two since it was getting a little too long, so we do kinda end on a cliffhanger. But have no fear part two is near! （＾ω＾）

“The fuck do you want?”

 

Sans leaned carelessly on the open door frame with a half empty bottle of vodka in his left hand. He was topless, a huge gaping space where his ribs should be, with the same dirty shorts he's worn for the past few days draping off his ilium. Two dirty slippers covered both feet, a thick red collar clasped under his chin, and his cheeks had dried puke smudged all over them. He seemed a bit disorientated. Sockets taking a bit too long to flicker open after each blink. His stance was a little too wobbly despite the obvious support he was relying on.  

 

The skeleton looked the goat monster in her face as he ran his hand across the baseline of his chin. Hot puffs of air escaped his jaws as his gold tooth glistened in the early morning sun. He looked so much slimmer without that huge jacket shielding him. He also looked immensely frail with the appearance of a few missing bones.  

 

Right hand locked around her left wrist as she placed them politely to the front of her body, Toriel fixed her posture. She tightly held on to the fabric of her loose dress all while she tried not to come off as uneasy. She hated being outside of the house. She hated having to needlessly interact with people. All she really wanted was to hurry up and get back home. It wasn't helping her situation that Sans smelled absolutely awful, and if Toriel was just a little short on her manners she would've gagged in disgust. She didn't. 

 

Instead she struggled to put a smile on her face. 

 

He was plain rude. Much more rude than she remembered him. Thinking of something smart and quick witted to retort, all Toriel could say was,

 

“I'm...uh I'm here because you have something very dear of mine and I...I would like if you could kindly return it,” That was neither smart nor quick witted, but she felt like she was put on the spot. Toriel never did stand a chance in large crowds, especially when all the attention was placed on her. It’s another reason why she despised her position as queen. 

 

The goat woman nervously shifted from each foot. Having a habit of impulsively gathering as much information about her surrounds as possible, Toriel gulped when she noticed their next door neighbor in her peripheral vision. The scaled monster sat glued on his porch, newspaper in hand and the radio on, as he eyed the two of them. She couldn't’ see how anyone would want to just sit outside in this cold, especially in a neighborhood as rowdy and presumably dangerous as this one.  Obviously he recognized her despite her casual apparel.

 

Great, now word would get around that the former queen of the Underground was seen visiting a random man's home. She could only imagine what people would say, what they would think. This was exactly why she didn't leave the house.

 

“What was that? We ain't got any of your shit. Now get the fuck off my damn property!” Sans swore at her as he aggressively shoved his finger in her face.

 

She knew he recognized her. She knew he was just playing ignorant because his brother was most likely around. Toriel used to dread hearing his daily tales about the things Papyrus would do to not only him, but other monsters he would pick up during his shifts. Often times these said “suspects” would enter his custody in one piece and come out of it with two black eyes, missing teeth, and their HP dangerously low.  Of course he would always get away with it simply because he was a royal guard and that title pretty much meant you were Jesus in the eyes of the messed up law. The same law that would criminalize you for talking back to your superior, yet see nothing wrong with them abusing their power, and ultimately abusing you. Her former husband also saw nothing wrong with this, and in fact, encouraged it. 

 

_ It was just another reason why she despised her position as queen.  _

  
  


“Is Papyrus here? I-i mean can I just quickly talk to him about...?” Toriel quietly asked as she hoped Sans would lower his voice to match her own to prevent his neighbors from overhearing. She paused. Not wanting to really finish that sentence. If he was there what was she going to say to convince him to let Chara go? From all the stories she’s heard, the few things she’s seen of this heartless sadist, she could only imagine Papyrus laughing in her face and throwing her out of the house. It didn’t help that she really didn’t want to use any magic, not on him, not ever. And then there was the fear of him not being so happy about her sudden visit and deciding to take all that angry out on her hopeless baby. 

 

_ Sans was her only hope. She prayed that he was alone.  _

 

Toriel looked at the skeleton with a soft grin, only for her expression to fall when she noticed exactly where he was staring. She followed his gaze and wasn’t surprised that the trail ended on her breasts. The goat monster instinctively covered her chest with her coat as she cleared her throat. 

 

It took Sans a minute to respond.

 

“Paps ain’t here.” He said harshly, not moving his eyelights in the slightest despite her obvious cue of discomfort. 

 

Toriel brightened up a little after hearing this. She knew she now had a winning chance of getting out of this without an inevitable violent fight. Now the only thing to consider was time. How long was Papyrus gone and when would he be back? It was Sunday morning, so she doubted he went off to work, but did that give her more or less time than usual? She could always ask when he left and when he would return, but Toriel somehow doubted that Sans would be easily willing to give up that information. 

  
  
  


“Please, Sans. Just let me in...I know you, and I know you don’t want to keep doing the horrible monstrosities you and your brother are engaging in,” Toriel tried not to think about what her poor child had gone through, what  _ they _ put her through, all these months. She could just see those two pinning her down and doing the unthinkable all while having no guilt or remorse for their actions. She wondered if her child begged for her every night before she went to bed. 

 

_ Toriel nearly broke down just thinking about it.  _

 

Sans threw his head back as he took a chug at his drink. He stood there gulping the liquor down like he was dehydrated, and finally got a chance to drink a glass of fresh water. When he eventually allowed his body a break from the flood of alcohol invading his esophagus, he let out a loud dirty burp. Toriel winced back as her nose was hit with the toxic gas. 

 

How  _ very _ rude. She knew Sans had a tendency to lack any manners but this was beyond unacceptable. This douchebag was worse than she previously thought. He was swearing at her, forcing her to stand in the cold, and now blouching in her face. Not to mention all of the atrocities he had committed to a child.

 

_ To her child. _

 

The goat monster just about had it up to here with him, with absolutely everything he’s done up to this point. If she wasn't such a shameful coward she would've done something about it. Maybe teach him a lesson he wouldn't forget, but Toriel doesn't do violence. Not when he's related to someone like Papyrus. She was already about to “take” her daughter away from him, so why give him another reason to hunt her down.

 

“Fine if you want to come in you gotta show me those jugs of yours,” Sans grinned at her in such a filthy perverted way that she had to reframe herself from smacking the living daylights out of him. He was being beyond insulting now, and if Chara wasn’t in the mix of all of this, Toriel would’ve never stood there and put up with it. She had to, though. She unfortunately had to hold herself from cussing him out then walking away, because this was her one and only chance to get her child out of this situation as soon as possible. Besides, the neighbors were watching, and she must always conduct herself like a lady when out in public.

 

“Excuse me? I am not going to-” 

 

Sans opened the door wider to reveal a shaking silhouette of a child sitting on their sofa. Toriel couldn’t see her face but she instantly knew it was her. She was here. She was actually here. Chara was here and alive, and though she had been pushing this thought out of her head for the longest while, Toriel had feared that she might have to go searching for her, or worst. It was risky for them to just be keeping Chara in the house after all. Child or not, she was still a human. A human with a nice juicy soul that any scum would just kill for to get their hands on it. 

 

Besides, it wasn't so far fetched for one of Snowdin's biggest sickos, Papyrus Serif, to have a hidden bunker somewhere filled with bodies or trafficked monster.

 

_ What a scary thought. _

 

God, how she wanted to just push her way through the door and simply hold her petrified child. Toriel hugged herself as she tried to close her open jacket some more. 

 

_ The weather suddenly got so bitter.  _

 

“Chara! Chara, mommy's here just sit tight!” She screamed out to the girl, not even caring if any bystanders heard. Frisk turned her head to look at her, a shadow still masking her appearance, as Toriel tried to squinted to get a better look. 

 

“Uh not so fast.” Sans poked his filthy bottle at her right breast as he licked the corners of his mouth. He stroked the neck of the glass in a horribly seductive way. A little bit of drool was left dripping from his chin. Eyelights wide and focused. 

 

“Show me your titties or leave,” He said smugly all while now obscuring her view of the interior of his house. He was enjoying this. He was enjoying this way too much. Why was every male she’s never bothered to get close with, a Class-A psychopath. 

 

”You're a sick predator, you know that-”

 

“Why thank you, Big Tits Mcgee, now show me the girls!” Sans exclaimed. He was purposely being loud. He knew people were listening. He knew this whole situation was embarrassing. He knew it was killing Toriel inside. Sans smiled wider when he and his neighbor made eye contact. He beamed with joy when he spotted a group of monsters just hanging out on their front yard across the street. He nearly fall out laughing when everyone’s attention was suddenly focused on them. On her.

  
  


“There must be another way-” She plead. Hoping that Sans would find it somewhere in his cold heart to reconsider. 

 

“There isn't.” Sans quickly interjected. 

  
  


Toriel grunted as she thought about hurting him, but she had to be the better person. She had to turn the other cheek and just take it. She had to for Chara's sake. 

 

_ She really wanted to get home and never come out ever again. _

  
  


“C-can I do it inside...there's people around-” She was interrupted once more. 

 

“Nope if you want to come in you need to do it right here, right now.” Sans took another sip of his drink. Toriel watched as the liquid swished around in the bottle. She really wished he would choke and just die  _ right here, right now _ .

 

“...okay,” The furry monster finally said before hesitantly grabbing the straps of her dress. She swiftly looked around to make sure no one was watching, and of course that same monster on his porch was still looking directly at her. His hands previously sat seen on his lap with a newspaper, but now they were out of view. There was a very faint movement near his crotch area that she couldn't quite make out.  She prayed he wasn't doing what she thought he was doing.

 

“That guy is watching,” Toriel bluntly pointed at him. He winked at her. She sneered at him while hugging herself even tighter. 

 

“Let him watch. I'm sure he is also gonna enjoy the show,” Sans laughed.

 

Toriel looked towards the neighbors across the street. They quickly turned their heads when she made eye contact. She suddenly had an urge to try and explain her situation to them. To yell that she wasn't just some prostitute making a house call, but she knew how incriminating that would be. But it wasn't like she was doing anything wrong. She wasn't. No Sans was forcing her to do this. He was forcing her to compromise her modesty. To look like a cheap whore in front of all these people. 

 

“Sans... I can't,” Her voice cracked. She couldn't do this to herself. She couldn't have them think anything negative of her. Stranger or not. She refused to lower her value.

 

“Then  _ you can't _ come in here. Goodbye.” Sans said coldly as he began to shut the front door. Toriel held out her hand to stop him. 

 

“Wait.” He looked at her. The guy next door looked at her. The people across the street looked at her.

 

Fine if she was going to do this, she was going to make it very quick. Taking a deep breath in, Toriel pulled the neck of her dress down, lifted her bra up, and exposed her chest. She knew only Sans and that creep burning daggers at her body got a good view, but that knowledge did nothing to console her.   Her breasts jiggled slightly with each passing breath as her huge dark nipples stared Sans in his face like a pair of slit eyeballs.

 

A seductive whistle was heard somewhere in her radius but Toriel as far too ashamed to raise her head and see where it was coming from. She felt so naked and cold, yet her face was scolding hot. She wondered how a person could ever do such a thing to someone they once called a friend. Or maybe Sans never considered her a friend. Maybe all these years, his frequent trips to the ruins for her, his tendency to make her laugh with all his bad puns, was all just her own delusions. Maybe their friendship had always been one sided. 

 

Toriel could feel her eyes watering.

 

Sans’ grin was stretched out unnaturally on his skull. He was truly a sick bastard.

 

The skeleton couldn't help but violate her. He grabbed her breast. He fondle them in his palms as he felt her warmth. He dug his claws in her skin just for the fun of it.

 

Toriel harshly slapped his hand away as she yelped. She grew more embarrassed when  the cheers began flowing from across the street. 

 

And from the creep next door. 

 

They were all pigs. They were all just horrible.

 

The woman rushed to pull her dress up. She hoped dearly the tears pooling more and more at the corners of her eyes wouldn't fall.

She tried hard to put a tough look on her face.

 

_ No one was falling for it. _

 

“Damn Sans. Where'd you find this piece? How much she charge to let me tap that?”   The scaled monster asked as he lowered his radio. Sans kept his eyes on her.

 

Toriel had never felt so low, so belittled, in a very long time. This was beginning to become reminiscent of her period in that wretched palace. Reminiscent of her marriage. She never imagined having to be forced in such a position again, and yet here she was. Paraded in front of a group of men like a juicy piece of meat. She used to be nothing more than a trophy wife. Only there to either be eye candy, or to simply “entertain”.

 

“She's too damn expensive for your broke ass, I'll tell you that,”  Sans pompously replied while raising his bottle to the dragon. The guy scoffed before turning his radio back up and pretending to look off into the distance. 

  
  


“Can...can you let me in now,” The goat monster asked as a stew of defeat boiled inside of her. She hated feeling so helpless, so vulnerable. If she wanted to be treated like a two dollar whore she would've moved back in to the palace.

 

Toriel would've preferred death over this.

 

Sans kept smiling at her. He could barely stand up from all that liquor flowing around in his guts, but that didn't stop him from mocking her. He knew exactly what he was doing and he was loving every minute of it. 

 

Toriel kept eyeing her boots. She studied the laces, the fine stitching, the clumped up snow stuck on the toe tips. The goat really didn't want to think Sans wouldn't keep his end of the bargain. Having just flashed him and the whole neighborhood, there was the sliver of hope that integrity was still a word in his vocabulary.  

 

“Well they sure were beautiful, heh. I bet you want to see my dick now, don't ya-”

 

“No, Sans...can I come in now,” She looked at him sternly, but quickly broke contact in fear of being too intimidating. How could she have ever been friends with this asshole. 

 

The skeleton yawned and stretched his arms above his head. Toriel grew more annoyed. Attempting to get another glance inside the house, only for Sans to continuously block her view, the goat woman frowned. When she moved her head to left, he followed after her with that same shit-eating grin. When she moved to the right, he vulgarily chuckled as he shoved his face between her and her child. 

 

“You didn't ask nicely,”

 

Toriel tried to keep her smile, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to her, but the more she had to look at his face the more fustradrated, and plain sad, she got. She took a deep breath to calm herself. This was all for Chara. All she had to do was get her, then get out. After today she would never see any of them again. Not Sans, or that creep currently masturbating to her, or any of these other degenerates. 

  
  


“Can I please come in?” The goat monster asked in the sweetest voice she could muster. Sans seemed pleased. 

 

“Come on in,” He said nearly slurring his speech. He moved out of the way and motioned for her to enter. Toriel dusted her boots off from any remaining snow before hesitantly stepping past the skeleton. She tried turning her backside away from him in fear that he would try to smack it. 

 

Frisk looked up at her. She couldn't believe that someone actually showed up. If only she had the chance to hear exactly what was said during their phone conversation. 

 

“Chara you are so much smaller than I remember you,” The goat monster approached her with tears. She was about to hold her in her arms before Sans stepped in and grabbed the girl by her collar. He lifted her up with such ease that Toriel could've been convinced that the little girl was simply a life size replica of Chara.

 

“What did you just call her? Her name ain't fucking Chara,” Sans drunkenly laughed as he lazily plopped down on the couch and placed the girl on his lap. She looked uncomfortable and tried to get off of him only to be pulled back down towards his stiff femurs.

 

**_To be continued…._ **


	12. Bottles & Bottles of Disconnection II

“Please refrain from using such profanity in front of the child,” 

 

Toriel sat next to Sans. 

 

Feeling so unsure of herself, the monster ran her hand through Chara's damp hair. The child was drenched in nervous sweat. Her small eyes glued to the filthy floor as she shook on the skeleton's femurs.

 

The woman wanted to provide some form of comfort, even if it was very small, but found herself being very hesitant. 

 

Everything she thought she knew about Sans went out the window hours ago, she had no idea how stable he was. There wasn't a clear indication of what he was capable of, sober or not. The last thing anyone needed was for him to blow up out of nowhere and end up hurting someone.

 

As Toriel sat there running her clawed hand along Chara’s brown strands for what felt like an eternity, she felt a little surprised that Sans didn’t pull the girl away all that time. Though, the goat monster could tell he was very irritated with her progressively getting too close.

 

He kept his drunken gaze locked on her hand. A harsh, yet dead, scowl crept along his mug. His grip slowly tightened around the little girl's arm as Chara refused to move her watery gaze from the same spot on the carpet.

 

Toriel Felt a foreign emotion boiling up inside her. She couldn't describe it, she didn't know if she even wanted to describe it. Or understand it. Or feel it ever again. She wanted her body to stop betraying her the way it always did. She wanted to understand why all of a sudden she had a sharp urge to throw up. A sudden urge to just get up and run out of there. 

 

_ Was this disgust? _

 

Of course it couldn't be. Toriel was far too familiar with such a feeling.  _ Maybe fear _ ? But she knew better. She's lived in fear half her life. She's experienced it enough to immediately know such an emotion. 

 

This feeling was new.

 

Sans slightly pulled away. Leaving Toriel's hand devoid of contact.

 

_ Suddenly Toriel felt a strike of anger. _

 

Who was he to try and stop her from comforting her broken child. This sweet, fragile, yet broken child that meant the world to her. This child that was broken by his own hands. 

 

_ How dare he. _

 

As the goat monster stared at the two before her, she knew she had to compose herself. This situation had to be handled in the best way possible.

 

In an attempt to distract her mind from Sans, Toriel observed the small frame of the human. 

 

This couldn't actually be happening. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't believe her little girl had returned to her, even if she had  such horrible things afflicted upon her. Where had Chara been all these years and why would she ever leave her so sad and lonely? If only Toriel knew where to find her. If only she bothered to actually search. To actually look for her. To not listen to the lies everyone told about Chara's demise. This should never had happened to her poor Chara.

 

To any child.

 

At least that empty hole the monster was forced to live with for so long, had finally been filled. She could finally breathe. Really take in a big gust of air and not worry about suffocating.

 

_ Never again would she lose sight of her child. _

 

But now she faced a new problem.

 

Sans was just about nodding off as he kept his filthy hands on her precious child's waist. He was getting dangerously close to touching somewhere he shouldn't. 

 

Toriel wanted to snap his fingers off right there and then.

 

“Who...uh who's the father?” Toriel quietly asked. She was half in disbelief that a girl that young and small could even carry a child. Chara was so sweet and fragile. So innocent. This was such a sick taboo in more ways than one. sadly, the main one being the fact that a human somehow managed to conceive a monster's offspring. 

 

Sans sleepily raised his head before patting the bloated tummy of the girl. He had this sick twisted look on his face for a brief moment until it quickly shifted to what Toriel could only assume was pure disappointment. 

 

“well I'm surely not the one that's been fucking her all these months.” He grumbled in his low deep voice. 

 

The room grew quiet for a moment. Toriel kept a comforting hand on Frisk's head. She wanted badly to rip her off of Sans lap but she knew she couldn't. not when Sans had that predatory look on his face. It was like she could feel him about to pronounce at her. It would explain why he was so calm and willing to just let her in with no questions really asked. He must've planned this out somehow.

 

He seemed to know she would show up in advance. Obviously Chara was forced to tell him. But knowing this just spelled out trouble. What types of things did he have in store for them? Was Papyrus hiding somewhere just waiting for the perfect moment to attack? 

 

She needed to speed things up and get the hell out of there.

 

“Can I hold her?” Toriel asked.

 

“No.” Sans retorted, not even moving his gaze from the muted television. The goat monster hadn't noticed it was turned on, being far too on edge with the safety of her child to be even slightly observant. Toriel turned to see what was on the small screen. Sans was so seemingly focused on it. Eyes locked on as if he was brainwashed, yet there was nothing on the moving box but static.  

 

_ This frightened the monster to her core. _

 

Toriel got down on her knees, trying not to consider Sans’ insanity, and put a gentle palm on the skeleton's femur. She softly asked. 

 

“Why not? I just want to hold her, Sans.” She then slightly pouted as she looked up at him with watery eyes. Sans didn't move, instead deciding to rudely sit there and ignore her. 

 

“Please. Please for the sake of our friendship...for the sake of doing the right thing, because I know you, Sans. I know this is getting to you and I know it's tearing you apart to know you're hurting an innocent being,” 

 

Toriel didn't know how true that statement was. Sans barely seemed phased about hurting Chara. In fact, the way he harshly held her, the way he was blatantly violating her right in front of the woman's face, all seemed to point otherwise. She just hoped her sad attempt at picking his mind would work.  _ Somehow _ .

 

Sans took another swing of his bottle, turned the TV's static up, and pulled Frisk closer towards him. He wasn't listening to her. He refused to listen. He was just going to be a stubborn asshole, and for what?

 

How could anyone be so cruel.

 

Toriel decided to try something different. A method she wasn't all that good with, but she hoped her size difference and higher HP compared to the skeleton would have some effect.

 

“Give her to me now!” Toriel screamed as she slammed her angry fists on Sans thigh bone. Suddenly surprised, Sans choked as he tried to cough up a pool of liquor stuck in his throat. He looked like he was about to throw up as his cheeks puffed out while he placed a bony hand over his mouth. Frisk and Toriel sat silently as he went through a gagging fit. It took him a minute to finally swallow the contents back down his ecto esophagus.

 

“Damn..” He said while trying to catch his breath. “You weren't gonna try to help me-”

 

“I was hoping you would've choked. It would just be poetic justice,”

 

“Heh, poetic justice huh?”

 

“Yes. The evil child predator dies by alcoholism right after refusing to free his victim.”

 

Sans let out a rumbling laugh. He seemed so entertained by her statement that he let the bottle in his hand fall and smash on the carpeted floor. He let go of his tight hold on Frisk as he guffawed like a hungry hyena. 

 

Toriel didn't see what was so funny. She cut her eyes at him as she weighed out the consequences of murdering him right there. She could light him up in a flame, but she risked the chance of the child getting hurt. Not to mention that Chara had already went through so much and Toriel could only imagine what seeing a dead body would do to her psyche.

 

And not to mention that Toriel was far too much of a coward to even light a candle by herself. What a disaster it would be if she tried to play it tough and fiddle with her magic. The woman's snurl fell as her face laid flat. She waited for Sans to finish his fit. 

 

Seeing how it was her, the bumbling “bimbo”, trying to threaten anyone, the goat woman  _ could _ see how this situation would be hilarious.

 

“Ha..child predator..Oh god that's rich!” Sans said through his laughter. It took him a minute to finally calm down. He wiped a tear from his eye. 

 

“Papyrus will be back soon so why don't you ask him about holding her, okay?” 

 

Sans knew she was afraid of that asshole, it was by his doing that she developed a strange phobia of anyone beyond the Ruin doors, hell, anyone beyond her front door. And if she had to pick one of the meanest biggest “boogymen” to point her finger at for the cause of her onslaught of night terrors, she would pick Papyrus each time. Maybe this was Sans intentions from the very beginning. She didn't know how far ahead he decided to plan this out. She couldn't tell if their friendship was ever real or if he used that to somehow get to Chara. Even if Chara wasn't around by the time they met. 

 

But then again she couldn't prove where her child had been all this time. Just thinking about this made her head throb.

 

“Why do you let him control you like that? Why follow his every word….I mean you are the older brother. This decision should be up to you, Sans. We shouldn't have to wait for him-”

 

“Oh please I already know what you're doing okay, and I ain't falling for that shit so you might as well shut it. Besides she got a fucking collar on. You won't get far without him instantly knowing,”

 

_ Another failed attempt at psychology _ .

 

Toriel eyed the leather around her child's neck. How suddenly unobservant she has become. How suddenly dumb she felt. And even more weak. And hopeless. She caught herself from crying out in utter pain. What an evil way to treat any creature. 

 

“Can't you take it off?” Toriel weakly whispered. She hoped Sans could. She hoped Sans would have it in his heart to just for once help her out.

 

“You think I would still have this shit around my neck if I could,” Sans pulled at his own collar as he slyly winked at the goat monster. 

 

_ How hopeless _ .

 

They were all a slaves to this cruel world. All left to suffer. All left to live a miserable life only to die painfully. Maybe she shouldn't have bothered showing up. What was even the point if there were going to be obstacles every step of the way.

 

Toriel rested her head on the couch cushions. She didn't know what to do. If only she didn't just impulsively rush over here without any form of a plan in mind. 

 

She wished deeply that she wasn't such a horrible mother. That she wasn't a coward.

 

“You know, the kid's pretty smart,” Sans pulled his cell phone out as he started tossing it in the air. Toriel kept her head buried in the canvas fabric. 

 

“Not to mention pretty tough. I mean I'm pretty sure I would not have survived this long with my measly 1 HP and all,”

 

Where was he going with this? 

 

There was pause for a long moment. The woman was left to suffer through the ruckus the static was making against her eardrums. If she cared enough she would have begged Sans to simply to turn it off. But the more she listened to it, the more she felt grateful that this awkward silence was being filled. 

 

The lack of Sans saying anything was tempting the monster to look up, but it wasn't until she heard the hard crash and shattered glass, that her head finally raised. Sans threw his phone towards the back wall. It smashed instantly on impact, bursted particles flying in every direction, as the sound of the clash made Frisk nervously jump.  

 

“Then again I've been through a lot of shit,” Sans grew quiet again. 

 

Toriel decided to try to keep him talking. If he was talking he wouldn't be throwing things, or people, at least for a little while longer.

 

“Why did your brother decide to-” 

 

“You know I wish I knew. I wish I knew what went wrong this time around...I must've done something...or maybe she did,” Sans’ hands slowly began to travel up Frisk's body only to rest harshly below her collar. He had such hatred in his eyes, such contempt, that Toriel stood very still so not to set him off. 

 

“There's a way out of this you know,” The skeleton reached down and grabbed a piece of broken glass from his bottle.

 

Toriel could see where this was going. She could see it so clear like the last sight of a tree trunk before your vehicle inevitably made deadly impact with it.

 

“Sans-” 

 

“If we kill her the whole thing will restart...everything…don't you want that? Like I know this is going to sound batshit crazy, but she controls it all. Literally if she dies we all start from the beginning...y-you’ll get a whole fresh start,” Sans stood up as he pressed the glass against Frisk's cheek. The girl started frantically crying as she tried to free herself from Sans hold on her waist. 

 

Toriel tried to think of something, anything to calm him. 

 

“Sans I know you're upset...and maybe a little scared, but please don't take it out on her,” Toriel slowly took a step towards them. Sans took a few steps back. “You'll thank me later after the fucking world resets and everyone forgets this whole thing happened. Well everyone except me because of course. I'm always left to suffer! But I don't fucking care anymore! I-i just want this all to be over-” 

 

He was crazy. He was more insane than she originally assumed. This was getting far more dangerous.

 

“I know Sans. Trust me I know how life can be at times. I know what it's like to feel defeated, to just want to give up, but we can't just give up, Sans. We can’t. We have to keep moving forward because the greatest thing about hitting rock bottom is knowing that there is nowhere else to go but up,” Toriel assured him with a gentle smile. She didn't really believe the cliche bullshit she just spewed, but hoped it would have some sort of impact on him.

 

“And the amazing yet tragic thing about life is that we only get one shot at it...please don't take that away from her,” 

 

Sans wanted to yell at her. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs that this little brat of a human didn't just get “one shot at it” she had many. So many that it was almost unbelievable. It didn't matter what happened to her, she would always come back. She would always come back to haunt him.

 

He hated himself right now.

 

Why was this suddenly so difficult.

 

“I blew it, Toriel. I really did.” Sans nervously chuckled. “If only you knew the extent of the things I've done-” 

 

“So why add on to that guilt? Do you really think killing Chara will magically make things better? Trust me it won't.” 

 

“I don't know what to-” 

 

“Give her to me...please do the right thing just this once,” Toriel begged as her voice cracked. She knew she was treading thin ice right now with this conversation. She just really hoped she was getting through to him. 

 

Sans shifted his gaze from her. The goat monster could tell he was considering it. Actually really considering it. Maybe he did have some form of moral compass left, maybe she wouldn't have to resort to plan “B”.

 

_ If she had a plan “B” that didn't consist of running away in fear, of course. _

 

Sans was reminded of his childhood. It was hilarious how this whole scene played out, how he became the crazy bad guy. Just like Father. 

 

But then he thought about that morning, and how he stupidly confessed to his own brother. Was that worth living with? Of course it wasn't. 

 

Frisk would be fine. She would come back. She always did.

 

Sans dug the piece of glass deeper into the girl's cheek before quickly slicing it open. The cries of agony quickly filled the house, as her blood started pouring down her face. The child’s shrieking rang in Toriel's ear as Sans brought the glass down to her stomach and began piercing her bloated flesh like a butcher with a fresh slab of meat. He kept stabbing, and stabbing, and stabbing as Toriel stood there petrified and paralyzed.

 

Why was she just watching as this maniac murdered her child? Why couldn't she move or say a word? She wanted her body to respond, her feet to do something, anything, besides stand there. She couldn't bare to hear Chara gasp and plea. She couldn't bare to she the crimson blood drench the floor beneath them as it made a deep puddle of red, mocking her. Tell her how much of a coward she was because yes, yes she was just watching as he stabbed Chara over and over again. And yes she was horrible mother.

 

“..gahhh..pl..please stop...please..” 

 

Toriel managed to close her eyes as she expected that to be her child's last words.

 

“YOU FUCKING LUNATIC….W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!” 

 

A disembodied voice quickly pushed her aside as it ran towards Sans and the girl. Still frozen in shock, Toriel hadn't noticed that same skeleton that put her daughter in this position was now pulling her away from Sans. This same monster that was the cause of all this misery was still able to do something that Toriel could not. 

 

“I was only gone for a few hours...I should've known better...I should've never left her with you” Papyrus held Frisk in his arms as she began to cough up blood. 

 

“No don't die...please don't die,” He was practically begging through tears. 

 

“This is for the best, Paps. You'll see. You'll all see. Soon the world will go back to normal...okay I know because I've seen it happen so many times-”

 

“And to think, my dear boy. I would one day return to see my son become nothing more than a server schizophrenic. That is what you're suffering from, isn't it?” 

 

Sans dropped the bloody piece of glass as his eye wandered towards the looming shadow near the front door. It was obvious who it was, but now Sans was panicking. He feared that he was having a mental breakdown and was now seeing ghosts. Or somehow his subconscious took on the form of Father. Or maybe this was the devil taunting him for attempting to murder a child.

 

_ Was he actually crazy? _

 

Maybe he made this whole thing up. Maybe none of this was really happening, or maybe the resets never existed in the first place. 

 

What did he just do? What was happening? 

 

The walls felt like they were closing in on him as Sans suddenly felt the air having a hard time entering his lungs. He couldn't breath. He couldn't breath at all, and now the ceiling was slowing collapsing too. He was about to be crushed. he was about to die and the last thing he would see is his father standing there, disappointed, and judging him. 

 

_ Was he crazy? All this time was he actually insane? _

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> It takes me ages to write chapters but I'm gonna try to get the hang of it and post as often as possible.
> 
> I just started college so I will pretty much be very busy in classes three days out of the week and like I might be distracted with homework for an additional two, only leaving me two days of free time DX. 
> 
> But like I said, I will try my best to post more often. :)


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